The Nondiran Legacy
by bobafettish1987
Summary: When Boba undertakes an unfinished project of Jango's, he doesn't know that half the villains in the galaxy are after his hard merchandise, too. But he doesn't want to hand Annbri over, even to her own family! Part of a Trilogy
1. Foundling

Chapter 1 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Take good care of her," Anmei Van-Dessel begged no one in particular, as she tucked her daughter into the Freeflight's last escape pod. She glanced at the hidden panel once more, behind which the precious Nondiran Files were stored. Both they and the child must survive, though Anmei knew that the rest of the Van- Dessels would be slaughtered tonight, herself included. "I love you, Sweetheart," she whispered into her commlink--which was recorded inside the escape pod-placing her hand on the launch control, "may the Force be with you." It took all of the woman's willpower to launch the escape pod, but the sound of her daughter's depart on the other side of the airlock door galvanized her into action.  
  
The vibrations of explosions and blaster-fire were getting more violent, but the invaders would not get Anmei Van-Dessel without a fight. Reaching into a secret wall recess, she pulled out her most accurate blaster and slipped behind a statue as a tall, forbidding figure, flanked by two mercenaries, marched down a nearby hallway towards the room where Anmei waited. As soon as the man entered, she stepped out and aimed for his chest. Anmei was known for her deadly marksmanship, and this was no exception. Even as two stun-rays hit her, the Matriarch of the Van-Dessel Royal House of Henber managed to fire. The last thing she heard was Kanruyen Branober's grunt of pain, then she slipped into oblivion. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kanruyen Branober had just awoken from emergency surgery. The wound Anmei had inflicted had not been life-threatening, but it had all but severed his left hand at the wrist. Refusing to stand before his captives as a wounded man, Branober had demanded that his personal medical technician replace the ailing limb before his triumphal march. The surgery took only fifteen minutes to perform, and another fifteen to fully heal. His waiting period almost up, Branober was examining the new mechanical hand. Suddenly, the medical technician came rushing in. "It should be ready, Sir!" he bubbled.  
  
"What do you mean, should?" Branober's eyes settled on the thin, nervous man.  
  
"I mean to s-say," stammered the technician, "It is ready."  
  
"Right." Branober flexed his new fingers appreciatively, and the medical technician smiled.  
  
"How does it feel?" he asked shrilly.  
  
Branober glared at the technician; he was not in the mood for geniality. "How does it feel to have your hand severed by a blaster bolt? How does it feel to have your vanquished enemy scar your existence? Perhaps you would like to know?" Branober stood, towering over the fearful technician. His hand, now perfectly healed, went to his modified blaster.  
  
"I-I understand, Sir," babbled the medical technician, "And-and I won't ask  
  
again...."  
  
"No, you won't," said Branober, wrinkling his nose against the smell of seared flesh. He kicked the medical technician's body out of the way, and headed for the Freeflight's main receiving hall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Othenderto Van-Dessel." Branober's voice echoed in the circular room, resounding off polished durasteel and marble. The energy strip around the ceiling gleamed with light, reflecting the pirate king's forbidding visage.  
  
A mercenary pushed an elderly Van-Dessel forward to meet Branober's gaze.  
  
"Why do you attack us?" Othenderto, the patriarch of the Royal Van-Dessel household, asked peering through bruised and swollen eyes.  
  
"The files, Van-Dessel, where are they?" Branober's gloved fist stroked his holstered blaster.  
  
Othenderto glanced at the weapon, then at his family, then back at Branober. "I can truthfully tell you I have no knowledge of the files of which you speak."  
  
"Can you?" The pirate's blaster was turned on a young Van-Dessel woman.  
  
Othenderto's voice became panicked. "We do not carry the files with us!" he cried, desperation contorting his features.  
  
"As you wish." The woman slumped to the ground, a blaster hole in her head.  
  
Anmei watched her family members fall, one by one, until just she, Othenderto, and the pirate king remained. Possessed with a strange calm that even she did not understand, Anmei looked hard into Branober's eyes.  
  
"Feisty," Branober observed. He flexed the fingers of his mechanical hand. "Feisty," he reiterated, "but see what it got you." Branober dispatched Othenderto with a quick blaster bolt, then turned the weapon on Anmei. "You're the one who hid the files. All I need to know is where. Come on, one little sentence..."  
  
"We did not bring the files with us on board the Freeflight," she said, as the others had before her. And, like the others before her, she soon was lying on the floor, the feisty light gone from her eyes forever. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Jango Fett's ship, Slave I, had not been a common sight among the stars during the last few years. A deadly and successful bounty hunter, Fett had never failed to capture a bounty. But now, recruited by the Kaminoan mercenary cloners to be a DNA donor, Fett spent most of his time in Tipoca City on Kamino, available to his employers should they need him. Fett had tired of such waiting, however, and had asked for temporary leave. With some resignation, the Kaminoans had allowed him to go for a month; a month that was quickly drawing to a close. The bounty hunter had only one week left before the inevitable return to the planet. There was one point of light on that looming horizon, however: Jango's personal clone, Boba, would be old enough to begin training when his "father" returned. This would keep him busy enough, Fett had decided.  
  
Fett had just delivered some "hard merchandise," the term bounty hunters used to refer to their captives, to the bounty poster. Restless, Fett punched the speed controls down all the way in a mad pursuit of nothing at all.  
  
Jango had not been zooming through space long when a warning light appeared on his sensor board: a ship! Slowing down instantly, Fett queried his computer as to the nature of the approaching vessel. The bounty hunter was quickly made aware that this was an escape pod, heading, as the pods were programmed to do, for the nearest planet. That would be Tatooine, a backwater, criminal-infested desert planet, on the outer rim of the galaxy. Some of Fett's best employers were stationed on that planet, and Jango knew it well. Finding the pod on Tatooine would be simple, if done correctly, and Fett had no intention to do otherwise. He wasted no time in locking his tracking sensor on the pod, then following it towards the dusty brown planet. While he tailed the escape pod, Jango scanned it for living creatures, then blinked in surprise. There was only one life form aboard: a very small one, only 26 inches tall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Branober sat in his ship, the Deviator, drumming his mechanical fingers on the armrest of his chair. Commander Kyjark, leader of his mercenary forces, approached with long, purposeful strides.  
  
"Well?" Branober asked impatiently.  
  
"No sign of the Nondiran Files, Sir."  
  
"None?"  
  
The commander shook his head gravely.  
  
"You are sure you have checked every crevice? Did you use the scanners, sift through every speck of dust? They had those files on board..."  
  
"Sir, every inch of the Freeflight has been gone over with a fine- toothed comb. There is nothing to be found." Kyjark's face was expressionless as he delivered his repor. "But, sir, there was an escape pod fired during the takeover. Pod R788JQ from sector 58."  
  
"Commander, pinpoint the exact location of the pod's ejection. I want to know what planet it traveled to. The files were in that pod."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Oh, and Kyjark? Inform Captain Nevvu to set his course for Henber. We'll pay a little visit to the Van-Dessel house." As the mercenary commander strode away, Branober envisioned a smoldering wreak in the middle of Henber's spotless capital, Shanwhir. "Just a quick, meaningful visit," he chuckled. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"A baby!" Jango Fett was incredulous. He roughly scooped the infant out of the escape pod, then carried it back to Slave I. While the baby slept in the cockpit, Jango brought the escape pod on board, after which he climbed up the ladder to regard his new acquisition.  
  
The baby was asleep on Jango's cockpit chair, one tiny pink hand curled up in a sleepy fist. If Jango had ever felt compassion before, he would have now. As it was, however, the bounty hunter's inward shell was as strong as his Mandalorian armor, and he remained untouched.  
  
Jango knew little about caring for children. His own clone, Boba, was in the care of Lama Su and Taun We, the Kaminoans, until Fett's return. After that, Boba would train with Jango, learning the ways of the most famed and feared bounty hunter. Jango would not raise Boba, but train him.  
  
Of course this baby could not be trained, but there might be someone looking for it who would pay credits for its safe return. The only question was, what to do with it while he waited for a bounty to be posted? He couldn't exactly announce that he had a baby he wanted to get rid of. Better to wait until the parents got desperate; the bounty would be higher. He would have to wait.  
  
Jango searched his memory for contacts who could hide the child safely. Finally, his mind hit upon someone: Eiben Stellar. The crafty old slaver had many children, ranging in ages, aboard his ship, the Marauder's Revenge. Eiben made a living off raising children to be sold into slavery, and besides, Stellar owed Jango a favor.  
  
Jango put the baby in one of Slave I's holding cells so it couldn't mess with his cockpit controls, then went below into the cargo area, where the small escape pod lay. A cursory examination of the pod revealed the normal escape features: sparse controls, a viewing portal, small force field generator, and recording device. It was the last of all these that caught his eye. It was still recording, as the baby had been unable to turn it off, and must have been on since the pod's deployment from the Van- Dessel ship. Quickly, Jango stopped the recording unit and played back the message. As it was a very basic unit, the device emitted only sounds, no images, but it was sufficient enough for the bounty hunter to understand what was happening. As he listened to the trapped woman's farewell to her daughter, he ran a voice check. The computer whirred and bleeped, then a picture of a stately young woman appeared on the screen.  
  
"Queen Anmei of Henber of the royal house of Van-Dessel. Deceased," the computer monotoned, then was silent.  
  
The recording of Queen Anmei's comlink soon confirmed the computer's statement, as the anguished woman's dying groan gasped, "Annbri...." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	2. Jungle Fed?

Chapter 2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Annbri scrambled along the ventilation shaft, ignoring the dirt on her gray smock. She peered through the grate at the end of the shaft, searching for her friend Thwirt. Thwirt was a young Ewok and Annbri's best friend since childhood. Annbri had not left the ship since her arrival on the Marauder's Revenge, nineteen years ago, and Thwirt had been her only companion these long years. They had met in the broom closet for quite some time now, though creeping in using the ventilation shaft was becoming increasingly difficult for the much larger human. Thwirt was there, as usual, sitting on a mop.  
  
"Greetings? You are not early." Thwirt looked worried.  
  
"No, I'm not," said Annbri with a grin, "But I never am." She gave her friend a sidelong glance as she slipped out of the grate. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Master saying bad things. Master says Annbri needs to talk with him. Master says other master of Annbri is dead."  
  
"What other master?" Annbri asked, trying to sound incredulous. Bad things happened to slaves when their masters died.  
  
"Jungle Fed. Master says other master is Jungle Fed."  
  
"He was fed in a jungle?"  
  
"No, Jungle Fed is name of master."  
  
"That's ridiculous. This Jungle guy is just made up. My master is Eiben Stellar, whether I like it or not. Don't worry, I'll be fine."  
  
"Thwirt wishes he could be sure like Annbri."  
  
"Really, Thwirt, I'll be okay." Annbri glanced at the ventilation shaft. "Is there anything else? I really do have to polish Master Stellar's armor."  
  
"Not other words. Annbri will be careful?"  
  
"Yes," Annbri gave her friend a reassuring smile, then dove back into the shaft, not looking back to see Twirt disappear down another. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"How can it have been that we did not know of Fett's death before now?" roared Stellar, pacing the Grand Audience Chamber.  
  
Ilikar Grantuk, the unlucky messenger, cowered before the enraged slaver. "Dekenbri is far away from Geonosis, Sir Stellar, and Fett had been out of the mainstream for so long that his absence was not quickly noticed by authorities..." Grantuk fell silent as the slaver turned on him.  
  
"We shall have to undo your little mistake won't we?" Stellar's voice was low and deadly.  
  
Grantuk could only nod fearfully as Eiben Stellar motioned for a nearby guard. The slaver gave some concise orders in an undertone that sent the guard striding for the exit. Considerably calmer, Stellar perched on his chair in the center of the room, cold eyes calculating.  
  
It was only a matter of minutes until the guard returned, accompanied by a confused slave girl. Eiben Stellar rose from his chair and paced once more, speaking to the girl.  
  
"A long time ago, I owed a debt to a bounty hunter named Jango Fett, perhaps you've heard of him? Well, Jango called this debt due nineteen years ago, when he brought me a baby girl to watch over until he returned for her. I was to raise her as one of my slaves, but never to sell her. Do you know who that little girl is?"  
  
The slave girl stared, wide-eyed and fearful. "Me?"  
  
"Yes," Eiben Stellar grinned, "But now Fett is dead, and there's no one stopping me from selling you anymore.." The slaver circled the girl, appraising her with a practiced eye. "You'd fetch a good price, you know. Jango certainly did me a service. I'm going to contact Jeniru the Hutt; he's always on the lookout for new dancing girls. Dear me, he does seem to go through them quickly." As Stellar punched a code into his com adaptor, the slave girl glanced fearfully around the room. She knew she would not live long in a Hutt's clutches.  
  
A slug-like form appeared in front of Stellar, a hologram of Jeniru the Hutt. When it spoke, even its voice seemed overweight. "Eiben Stellar, what a pleasant surprise...to what do I owe this visit?"  
  
"Greetings Jeniru, I am honored to speak to you once more." Stellar's voice was oily. "I have found a new dancing girl for you, Milord, should you find her to your liking."  
  
"Another? Good..." the Hutt's head swiveled, searching for the slave girl in his holoscreen. Suddenly, the hologram of the Hutt flickered, then vanished. The room was silent for one nanosecond.  
  
"Guards!" Barked Stellar, his voice strained and panicky. Fifteen or so black-uniformed men were at his side in a moment, but too late. Eiben Stellar collapsed in his chair, a poisonous dart embedded just below his eye. As his vision blurred, an armor-clad man grabbed the slave girl's arm.  
  
"Eiben Stellar, never forget that it is hard to kill a Fett. I have come to claim what is mine, and by the looks of things, I'm just in time."  
  
"Jango Fett?" groaned Stellar as blaster fire ricocheted off the walls and ceiling, Fett's helmet the last thing the slaver would ever see. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Annbri didn't say a word until they were safely inside the armored man's ship, Slave I, but as the shock wore off, a dozen questions sprang to mind. "Who are you? Aren't you supposed to be dead? Where are you taking me? Why did you do that?"  
  
Fett's voice was expressionless. "I am Boba Fett, son of Jango Fett. I am not supposed to be dead. I took you back because I do not enjoy losing valuable property."  
  
"Property! I'm not free now?"  
  
"Why would I free you?"  
  
"Because you rescued me, and-and that's what you're supposed to do!"  
  
"It's not what I'm going to do. Follow me." Boba Fett led Annbri to a set of cages built into his ship. "This is where you will live for the duration of the trip."  
  
Annbri was indignant. "You might as well have left me with Stellar!"  
  
"That would not have been profitable. Get in."  
  
Knowing better than to argue with the man who had just broken into the Marauder's Revenge, Annbri sighed and stepped into the cage.  
  
Once inside she flopped down on the stiff cot, completely ignoring Fett. She did not see him linger outside her cell, shake his head, then retreat to his own quarters. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Boba Fett was unused to feelings. Over the twelve years since his father's death, he had gotten quite good at masking them, both inwardly and outwardly. Why, after all these years, should he start feeling again?  
  
Boba prided himself in his indifference. When a bounty hunter had too much compassion, he was ruined. What made Boba Fett famous were his amazing captures, which he could not have accomplished if he had felt mercy. The reason he had "rescued" Annbri was not for her own comfort, but for the continuation of his father's search for her relatives who would surely pay a great sum for her return. Jango had died before his search had gotten very far, but Boba was determined not to fail.  
  
The only problem with this mission was feelings. The twenty-five- year-old Boba could had not been able to help noticing Annbri's slender figure, nor her striking lake-blue eyes. His heart was still untouched, but for how long would it remain so?  
  
As Boba lay on his back in his small private quarters on board Slave I, a picture of that slim, dark-haired slave came to mind. She must be from the same planet as his father, Jango, had been, for their skin was the same caramel-brown. Boba looked at his reflection in his Mandalorian armor, now stowed beside his sleeping pallet, and saw his uncertain brown eyes staring back at himself. That was the most noticeable difference between the two of them, aside from gender: the colors of their eyes.  
  
Boba remembered a trip once when he and his father had flown to Alderaan, the jewel of the galaxy. Though they weren't on a sight-seeing mission, Jango had pointed out a clear, deep blue lake to young Boba, and that water was reflected in the slave girl's eyes. Boba wondered whether it was himself or Annbri who were more different from their unknown families. On Jango's home planet, was it normal for eyes to be blue, or brown?  
  
Boba turned over on the pallet, closing his eyes. With practiced ease, he pushed his emotions back down inside--where they belonged. The last thing he needed was to think about this slave as a person. She was just, Boba reminded himself, "hard merchandise." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	3. Trapped

Chapter 3 Slave I ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Denburn Kyjark held his cloak tightly around himself as he strode through the Deviator's halls; the very air in the ship seemed evil. Two of Kanruyen Branober's personal guards, deceptively innocent in royal blue robes, accompanied him towards Branober's receiving room. With each step, Kyjark wanted more and more to turn around and run. Only the desire to live kept him from doing just that.  
  
After nineteen years, thought Kyjark, why did this particular skeleton have to come out of the closet? In the time since the raid on the Van-Dessel royal residence on Henber, Kyjark had cleaned up his life. He had a wife, son, and promising business on Coruscant; he couldn't be associated with the likes of Branober, not anymore. There was once a time when he would have done anything for a good-sized stack of credits, but that was the old Commander Kyjark. Denburn had buried that self long ago, when he had seen just how far gone Kanruyen Branober was.  
  
Even now, when Kyjark closed his eyes, he could see the smoldering remains of the ransacked and demolished house on Henber. Servants' bodies lay strewn among the rubble, like their masters aboard the Freeflight, an undisturbed tomb deep in space.  
  
As Kyjark speculated on what his old employer would ask him to do, his thoughts strayed to his wife, Eneera. She and Ofen, his son, would be homeless and penniless if he did not return. All their assets were locked up in stocks and insurance, hopelessly tangled in red tape. If Kyjark were to be killed on this trip, Eneera and Ofen would be no better off than the scum in below-ground Coruscant. Denburn knew that whatever Branober asked, he would have to do, for the sake of his family. The thought weighed on him heavily; he had wanted to turn the corner from a bad life to a good one and never look back, but it seemed that he hadn't gotten far before Branober called due old debts.  
  
Long before Kyjark was ready, the double doors of Branober's receiving chamber were sighted at the end of the hall. The ex-mercenary commander steeled himself, then followed the guards inside.  
  
"Commander Kyjark," Kanruyen Branober's voice was smooth and deadly.  
  
"Just Kyjark," Denburn corrected calmly.  
  
"Ahh, yes," Branober smiled indulgently, "You've cleaned up your act, haven't you? Well, I must say that is very good--for you--but it could also prove beneficial for me, too. You see, there is something that I still haven't got, something I have been searching for for a lifetime. Do you know what it is?"  
  
"The Nondiran Files," Kyjark said without pause.  
  
"Yes, yes, good memory, Commander."  
  
"I'm not a commander, Branober; I haven't got any troops at my beck and call."  
  
"Yes, that is a problem, isn't it..."  
  
"I'm useless to you! Please, just let me go back to my wife, my son, my business. I'll be of no help at all!"  
  
"You're very modest, Commander, but I'm afraid you don't understand. I'm hiring you as the new commander of my personal troops as we search for those files; what do you say?"  
  
Kyjark paused before answering, forcing the words through unwilling lips. "Sounds...great."  
  
Branober noted the lack of enthusiasm, but chose not to regard it. He knew the situation that Kyjark was in, and it fit his plans perfectly. "Very well, now I must fill you in on all that must be done, and done quickly."  
  
Kyjark moaned inwardly; so much for starting over. He could only hope that the files would be found speedily and quietly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Annbri awoke, she wished he hadn't. Her mind reeling, she slumped back down on the pallet, allowing waves of hopelessness to wash over her. After ten minutes or so, a helmeted head appeared beside the cage. Boba Fett was silent for a moment, then handed her a small packet of freeze-dried food. Annbri turned away from him, her stomach knotting up at the thought of consuming anything.  
  
"I have to keep you alive," insisted Fett, tossing the packet onto the end of the pallet, "You're no good to me dead."  
  
Annbri turned back to glare at him. How could anyone be so completely selfish? She kicked the packet, sending it flying across the cage, coming to a stop on the durasteel floor across from her.  
  
"Suit yourself," said Fett impassively, turning to leave.  
  
"Where are we going?" challenged Annbri to his back.  
  
"That's a very good question." Fett climbed the ladder up to the cockpit and silence held dominion over the cage area once more.  
  
Annbri swore in fifteen different languages as she bored angry holes in the food packet with her eyes. If Fett thought that she would live to fetch a large sum for him, he was wrong! She would starve herself to death before helping him.  
  
Annbri drifted in and out of consciousness for the next hour, and finally unable to sleep any longer, she rose to take a turn about the cell. Her hunger won over her resolve, and she peeped inside the food packet, then devoured its contents, mentally kicking herself all the while.  
  
Feeling guilty, she leaned against the door to gather her thoughts. Suddenly, her support gave way, and she tumbled out onto the floor. A small, surprised cry escaped her lips, which she quickly silenced. Had Fett really left the door to her cage open? She couldn't imagine him being so careless as to forget, but it was equally hard to imagine him wanting her to escape. Disbelieving her luck even as she slipped down the short hall to the only way out, the ladder to the cockpit, she smiled to herself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Boba Fett checked his course on the ship's datascreen. So far, Slave I was right on target for Henber, the only connection Fett had to go on. He turned back to his datapad, where a picture of Anmei Van Dessel in all her splendor opened an encyclopedia article about the last Matriarch of the Van Dessel household. Boba Fett had read it dozens of times before, but this time he was looking at the picture more carefully. He could easily see the familial resemblance, the delicate features, and the graceful poise that clearly linked Annbri the slave to the Royal House of Van Dessel. The only problem was, so many people had come forward, claiming to be the lost Heir of Van Dessel, that the royal houses of Henber had refused to listen to any more claims. This, Boba knew, would seriously jeopardize his scheme.  
  
He wondered briefly whether Annbri had discovered that her door was not locked yet. He checked the cage recording monitor just in time to see her tumble into the hall. The sound of boots on the ladder behind him confirmed what Fett had just seen.  
  
Without turning around, Fett spoke. "Hello."  
  
"Why wasn't it locked?" Annbri covered the distance between them with a few long strides. She pointed forcefully towards the ladder from whence she had come and repeated, "Why not?"  
  
"Did you want it to be locked?" Boba Fett was slightly amused.  
  
"Well, no, but shouldn't it have been? I mean, why would you want me wandering around your ship?"  
  
"There's not many places you could have gone except here."  
  
"You're avoiding the question. Why wasn't it locked?"  
  
"It was a test."  
  
"A test for what?" Annbri threw up her hands in exasperation.  
  
"To see whether you were smart enough not to try to escape. You passed."  
  
Annbri rolled her eyes. "Hooray."  
  
"Don't be stupid."  
  
"Fine, just fine. So what does happen to me now?"  
  
"You will go into partnership with me. I am correct in assuming that you are curious about your family?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"I, too, am searching for them. In order for my plan to work, we must work together to find the long-lost Nondiran Files. Without them, we can prove nothing."  
  
"A partnership, with you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And what if I say no?"  
  
"You would go back inside that cage for considerably longer, and it would be locked this time."  
  
"I'll say yes." Annbri wished she could see Fett's face as he nodded once, then silently turned back to his controls. She wanted to pull off his helmet, see the man few had ever laid eyes upon. She was so close... She stretched out a hand to touch the back of his helmet, but withdrew it just before contact. For some reason, she could not bring herself to do it.  
  
"I knew you weren't as stupid as most slaves," Fett's expressionless voice said, "They would have carried through with that plan." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	4. The Phendols go to Henber

Chapter 4 The Phendols go to Henber ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Again you must go," the short, green Jedi master insisted, prodding his apprentice with his gnarled gimer stick.  
  
Kelrin took a deep breath, shot a candid glare at the little alien, and stepped back into the tunnel. Immediately, the lights went out. "Master Yoda!" the apprentice cried indignantly, "How am I to dodge when I can't see?"  
  
The ancient Jedi chuckled. "The Force you must use."  
  
Kelrin didn't reply, already halfway through the training tunnel.  
  
Yoda leaned on his gimer stick, watching the youngster by the light of the swinging lightsaber. "Patience he does not have," observed the Jedi master, "But he is not the first, and the last he will not be. Learn, he will, yes, yes."  
  
Kelrin reached out with the force and sensed a stun-blast coming, he prostrated himself just in time, then continued his advance. Ducking and dodging, he finally attained the other side, then turned back to face his teacher, feeling relief and pride wash over him..  
  
"Not bad, hmmm?" Yoda didn't smile. "Not good, either."  
  
Kelrin's face fell. "Master, didn't I make it across?"  
  
"Ha! This is good, he thinks!" Yoda said to an invisible person over his shoulder. "You shall see, Padawan Kelrin." Without warning, Yoda dropped his stick and leapt into the tunnel. Immediately, he had to duck a laser beam which would have been knee-height for Kelrin. Half a second later, Yoda launched himself into an arching front flip that sent him over a series of three lasers, landing just in time to skirt a vertical blast. He deflected another beam with the Force while neatly sidestepping yet another vertical laser, then he curled up into a little ball and zoomed out, unscathed. "Now, you see, hmmm?" Yoda turned around and drew his gimer stick through the deactivated training tunnel. He leaned on it lightly, a tiny green smile playing with his odd features. "No more today."  
  
Kelrin tried not to show his elation. He pushed his thin braid over his shoulder and awaited his master's bidding.  
  
"Learn what today you did?" Yoda regarded his padawan.  
  
"That I need to focus more on the Force, instead of relying on myself."  
  
"Wrong you are! That you already know! Learned, you did, that old I am, but powerful still. Age, size, nothing they mean."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"Go you now. Practice your meditation tonight you must!"  
  
"Yes, Master." Kelrin jogged out of the training room, wiping sweat away from his face. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yoda shook his head, his ears drooping slightly. When would Kelrin understand? The Jedi master knew that his padawan had begun training against his will, but Yoda had thought the anger and desperation had long ago left Kelrin. Sensing a presence, Yoda turned around, finding Kender Enandov, Jey-Lu Ressendo's padawan, waiting respectfully behind him. "Kender, my company you seek?"  
  
"Yes, Master Yoda, it's about Kelrin."  
  
"Wonder about him I do as well."  
  
"He's worried about his family, the one he left on board the Freeflight."  
  
"Dead they are, Kender. That he knows."  
  
Enandov shook his head. "I don't think he does know that, Master. Kelrin keeps talking about his little sister, Danja or something. He says she's still out there, though unaware of him."  
  
"Their death he must accept. Bitter memories do not bring peace."  
  
"Master Yoda, I was wondering," Kender took a deep breath. "Do you think I could go to the Freeflight with Kelrin. Often, in the past, children would visit their parents' grave. Perhaps it would help?"  
  
"This also I was pondering. Closure he needs, hmmm? Talk with your master I shall."  
  
"Thank you, Master Yoda." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Annbri rubbed her eyes wearily; she had not slept well. Not that she had expected to, after refusing to go back into her cage where her bunk remained. She had spent the night on the cold durasteel floor of the cargo area of Slave I. Her joints stiff from their overnight position, she climbed the ladder slowly, glaring at the back of Boba Fett's helmet as her head cleared the cockpit floor.  
  
Fett was at the ship's controls, but his eyes were focused on a holoscreen. Annbri came up behind him to look over his shoulder, and suddenly found a gloved hand beneath her jaw, forcing her face up. The T- shape of Boba Fett's visor dominated her vision as the bounty hunter warned, "You had better not make a habit of sneaking up on me. Someday, I might not think you are so profitable."  
  
Annbri glared at him and spoke with difficulty, as his hand was pressing on her windpipe. "If you would just face me, I wouldn't have to be behind you."  
  
Fett did not show any sign of having heard her. After a moment's pause, he released her roughly and stepped aside so she could see the holoscreen.  
  
The picture was that of a planet. It was mostly blue, but as Annbri watched, the computer zoomed in on a tiny silver dot, the planet's capital.  
  
"That's the planet Henber," Fett explained, "And that city is Shanwhir. Your mother was from this planet, but she's dead. Do you have other relatives who will pay for your return?"  
  
"I-I don't know. Do you know much about my mother? Was her family rich enough to pay a ransom for me?"  
  
"That is all I know," Boba Fett lied. He switched of the holoscreen and turned back to the controls. "We should be there in two hours." Boba Fett didn't feel bad about decieving Annbri. If he had told her how famous and searched-for she was, though under a different name, she would be much harder to manipulate. No, better to keep her in the dark, or she might try to escape and find her family by herself.  
  
Annbri sat down on the floor a few feet away and pondered her new knowledge. She was not just a slave anymore, she was Annbri of Henber. Only two more hours until she was home, for the first time in her life. Annbri leaned back against the cool steel and envisioned herself among a family-her family. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kelrin Van-Dessel was astounded. "Master Yoda said what?"  
  
His best friend, Kender Enandov explained for the thousandth time. "Master Yoda gave me permission to take you on a little trip to deep space to visit the Freeflight."  
  
Kelrin shook his head in amazement. "What did you have to do to convince him?"  
  
"Nothing!" Kender retorted, "In fact, HE was thinking about it, too."  
  
Yoda's padawan smiled slightly. "Well, whatever it was, it worked."  
  
Enandov gave up and turned back to the borrowed ship's controls. "Just four hours, and we're there."  
  
"Four hours?" Kelrin slumped in his seat. "I can't wait that long!"  
  
"Me either," admitted Kender as he set the automatic pilot controls, "But I brought along something to pass the time."  
  
"What is it?" Kelrin stood up and stretched, eyeing his somewhat mischievous friend.  
  
"Oh, nothing that bad," Kender grinned, "But Master Qui-Gon would not approve..."  
  
Kelrin watched his friend withdraw a strange glowing green bottle.  
  
"Kenderaalan Ale, not very potent, but rather amusing." Kender grinned as he unscrewed the cap. "Care to?"  
  
"Why not?" Kelrin's glass was filled, and he apprehensively downed the lime-green liquid.  
  
Kender poured himself a glass and sat down in the co-pilot seat to drink. He glanced at his best friend, whose face was twisted in momentary agony. "Is it that bad?" he asked dubiously.  
  
"Worse." Kelrin reached for the bottle again. "Maybe the second one isn't so bad."  
  
Kender chuckled dryly and tried his own. It was like swallowing an ignited lightsaber. "Are we crazy?" he asked as he, too, poured another.  
  
"I guess." Kelrin smiled lopsidedly, already on his third glass. "Are you slur this idn't poten?  
  
Kender didn't answer as he stared into the swirling, glowing depths of his own drink.  
  
Ten minutes later, the bottle was very empty and the two padawans were very full. Kelrin was holding onto the arms of his seat with white nuckles. "If only this ship would stop doing loop-de-loops..."  
  
"It's not," Kender corrected, "we are."  
  
"Oh," Kelrin's head lolled. "What-what was in that stuff?"  
  
"Alocoloh-no, coloahl-no, holo--," Kender gave up. "Stuff."  
  
"Are we going to have overhangs?"  
  
"Like a roof?"  
  
"Like drunk guys?"  
  
"Like us?"  
  
"I-yeah."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The two collapsed into miserable silence. Finally, Kelrin fell asleep, leaving Kender more or less alone.  
  
Kelrin had been younger, smaller, and genetically more susceptible to the alcohol, whereas it was already wearing off of Kender. The older padawan made a trip of the bathroom, where he emptied his stomach, and came back to the cockpit feeling much more awake. He studied his slumbering friend, feeling guilty for bringing the ale on board.  
  
"Stupid stupid stupid." Kender muttered, kicking himself inwardly, "You knew he wouldn't hold out." Enandov rose quickly, activated his pocket practice remote, and ignited his lightsaber. Careful to keep a safe distance from Kelrin and the controls, he closed his eyes and concentrated. His connection to the force helped dissipate the rest of the alcohol's effects, and for the next two hours, Kender deflected stun blasts.  
  
Two hours later, Kelrin awoke. He ran a hand through his short padawan's haircut, then tugged gently on his braid. "Kender?"  
  
His friend quickly deactivated the remote and jogged back. "How's your head feel?"  
  
"Like I fought with a wookiee and lost."  
  
"Spend a little while in a healing trace. It'll get lots better."  
  
Kelrin nodded as he turned his attention to the controls. "How much longer?"  
  
"Not much. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes?"  
  
"Good. It's about time." Kelrin tapped experimentally into the Force, feeling the strength of the energy filling him. Already, he felt better.  
  
Kender's practiced fingers danced on the controls, bringing the small craft out of hyperspace. While Kelrin did battle with his hangover, his friend steered towards the space-grave. It wasn't long before the grand white ship, slightly deteriorated from extended exposure, loomed in the viewports. "Hey Kelrin, there she is." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Boba Fett shook his head vigorously. Without his armor, he felt vulnerable and exposed. He was dressed in a simple blue tunic, similar to the ones worn on the rest of Henber, for that was where he was.  
  
Annbri was similarly attired to blend in, and she awaited him in the cockpit. They were going to pose as husband and wife, another thing that made Fett uneasy. How had he formulated this plan, anyway? Was he completely stupid? Boba stared at himself in his helmet visor, knowing he would not be able to act indifferent to someone who was supposed to be his wife, but unsure of everything else. He had to get going, or it would be too late to book an audience. Setting his helmet down on his cot, he proceeded to the cockpit.  
  
Annbri was sitting in the passenger seat, toying with the hem of her overtunic. When Fett entered, she stiffened, then her eyes widened. "You're human." The words were simple, and not overly emphasized. It was as though she were saying it to clarify her own mind, not inform him.  
  
"Yes. You're one of those lucky few to ever see my face and know who I am. Right now, however, I am Ghenris Phendol, and you are my wife, Annbri Phendol. I am a mine overseer from the Far Basin, and just found out your sad past. We're going to the palace to schedule an audience with the ruling houses of Henber. You will have to tell your story, up until the point when I retrieved you. Do not mention Boba Fett. You escaped, stole a cruiser, and crash-landed in Far Basin a year ago. Your memory has gradually been returning since then, but you don't remember the details of your escape, understand?"  
  
Annbri nodded her head solemnly. "Yes."  
  
"I'll tell you right now, I don't know how a husband would act. I've only ever been a bounty hunter."  
  
Grinning, Annbri rose, allowing the soft blue folds of her tunic to sweep the ground. "Just smile at me every once in a while, call me Annbri, and make conversation." She had walked forward to stand beside him while she talked, and now linked her arm through his. Smiling calmly, she began to lead them out of the ship.  
  
Fett inwardly grumbled to himself, then tried to force his face into a calm mask. Before they even cleared the threshold of Slave I, Annbri turned to him and whispered.  
  
"You know, you're not very good at being happy."  
  
"I haven't had much practice," Fett defended.  
  
"We'll have to do something about that." They had now reached the hangar floor, and Annbri's attention was instantly captured by the enormity of the place.  
  
She's a good actor, he thought as he led them to the door, I hope I'm just as good for that audience. He wondered briefly what she planned to do to give him practice being happy, but dismissed the thought as "irrelevant."  
  
Ten minutes later, Ghenris and Annbri Phendol were on board the shuttle to downtown Shanwhir. Annbri's face was pressed against the nearest window, gaping at the glistening view of the enormous city. She turned back to Fett, beckoning wildly. "Ghenris, come see!"  
  
Fett smiled slightly and joined her, noting the reflection of the setting sun on her dark hair. He hesitated, then put his sinewy hand over hers, hoping that this was correct conduct. He felt as though she had slapped him when she flinched visibly.  
  
Annbri froze momentarily, then calmed herself. "I'm sorry, I've never seen other spacecraft so closely before, that last one really scared me."  
  
Fett knew she was lying, acting. He played along. "That's okay,...Dear." He thought he saw the ghost of a smile flit across her face, but when she turned to stare at yet another speeder, it was gone.  
  
An infobot approached them. "Mr. and Mrs. Phendol? Can I be of any assistance?"  
  
Fett started to shake his head when Annbri turned and inclined herself toward the droid, face aglow. "Yes! Which one is the palace?"  
  
A picture of a magnificent bulbous building appeared on the infobot's built- in holoscreen. As the droid rattled off touristy information about the Shanwhiran landmark, Annbri grinned at Boba. The smile was infectious, and Boba felt the corners of his own mouth curl slightly with mirth. Immediately, Fett pushed his feelings back down inside himself; he turned abruptly away from the window and sat down. Though Annbri stole several glances at Boba while she queried the droid, he did not look her way until the shuttle came to rest at their stop. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	5. Seven Days

Chapter 5 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For the first time in her life, Annbri could not sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed at the Royal Henber Hotel, where she and Boba had booked a room under the guises of Ghenris and Annbri Phendol. Finally extricating her legs from the tangled sheets, she stumbled through the dark, unfamiliar room to the balcony, a bubble that protruded from the room into nothingness. As her feet passed over the transparent floor of the balcony, she glanced down, then shuddered; six-hundred-or-so feet below, the lights of Shanwhir whirled dizzyingly. Shaking the disconcerting thought from her mind, she settled onto the small couch, the only piece of furniture on the bulbous balcony. She basked in the silver moonlight as her thoughts turned inevitably to the sleeping bounty hunter, who lay immobile on a couch near the door.  
  
Annbri glanced over her shoulder, her gaze following the shaft of moonlight to Boba Fett's blaster rifle, laid across the bounty hunter's chest where it was easily accessible, gleaming wickedly. Strange, Annbri thought, that something as peaceful as moonlight can seem so different on that weapon.  
  
Her eyes traveled past the rifle, to Fett's face, half-shadowed, and calm with sleep...or was it? Did Boba Fett ever sleep? Such a mortal weakness seemed beneath the legendary bounty hunter, and yet...Annbri remembered with a smile the way he had laid his hand on hers. Of course, she reminded herself, he had been acting. It was all part of the ruse, but Annbri almost wished it hadn't been.  
  
"Annbri!" she scolded herself in a whisper. She quickly banished the half- formed wish. Boba Fett was a cold killer, not capable, nor worthy, of affection.  
  
She let her eyes wander from the sleeping man within the room to the towering palace without. Earlier that day, shortly after they had arrived in Shanwhir, Boba had locked her in the hotel room and gone there, "on business," he had said. Annbri wondered if they kept family records at the palace, and felt hope rising within her. Boba Fett never failed, and he was going to find her family.  
  
Of course, a nagging little thought at the back of her mind cautioned, he's not doing it for you. He will be rewarded for his pains.  
  
Annbri had to admit it, the little thought was right. Boba Fett was a bounty hunter, not a philanthropist. He would not have started this job unless he thought he was going to profit from it.  
  
With a sigh, Annbri turned her thoughts and her eyes to the rushing traffic below. I wonder if any of those speeders carry members of my family, she thought with a rueful smile. Wouldn't it be ironic, them being so close, and yet not knowing each other?  
  
The nineteen-year-old stood and walked to the edge of the bubble, her reflection staring back. Annbri was surprised at how scared she looked, her strange blue eyes wide, her mouth slightly opened. Did all her family have those blue eyes? Annbri tried to imagine a mother and father, their dark brown hair, light brown skin, and smiling blue eyes welcoming her home. Turning away from the balcony, she headed back to bed, slowing as she passed Boba's couch. She gazed imploringly at her unconscious partner, whispering, "Please, Boba, you must find them."  
  
When she had gone, Boba opened his eyes, propped himself up slightly on his elbow, and watched the girl, still so young to be in so much turmoil, fall asleep. Though he did not know it, it was then that he decided that the reward credits were not the only reason he must convince the Royal Council of Annbri's true identity. And though he did not yet know it, convincing them would cause him much pain. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Commander Kyjark was looking over possible future battle plans in his private suite when his personal droid trundled over to him. "Commander, there is someone here to see you." Kyjark rubbed his temples lightly and stared forlornly at the droid. "Who?" he sighed.  
  
"He would not tell me his name."  
  
"I'll be right out."  
  
As the droid went out to tell the stranger, Kyjark strapped his blaster onto his hip. He didn't feel like meeting anyone right now, let alone a possibly hostile stranger. The plans were quickly stowed in a password- protected datapad, then the reluctant Commander strode quickly towards his receiving chamber.  
  
As soon as he walked into the chamber, he was glad he had brought his blaster. A Trandoshan bounty hunter, whom Kyjark recognized as the very successful Bossk, was standing in the middle of the room. Kyjark had never liked Trandoshans, known for their vicious cannibalism, but the appearance of this particular one was intriguing. "Sit down," he offered, though his voice was not friendly.  
  
"No. I want to stand. I will not be long." Bossk's voice was equally cold.  
  
"Very well," Kyjark replied, positioning himself in his own, higher chair, "what brings you here?"  
  
"I have come to offer my services-for a fee, of course. It seems you are having little luck finding the Nondiran Files."  
  
Kyjark stiffened. "How did you find out about the Files?"  
  
Bossk didn't move. "Word gets around, if you ask the right people."  
  
The Commander knew that the bounty hunter wasn't "offering his services," he was forcing Kyjark to hire him. If he was not hired, Bossk would tell others about the files, and make the already difficult task of locating them almost impossible. And, Kyjark reasoned, a bounty hunter might be just the thing we need, if we can afford the fee. Of course, if he was successful in this case, the fee would be a tiny portion of the wealth the Nondiran Files would provide. "All right," he said coolly, "it's your job. However, Bossk, don't forget that you might not be the only hunter looking for them. Don't delay."  
  
"Of course," Bossk smiled; it was a horrible Trandoshan smile.  
  
As the bounty hunter left the room, Kyjark almost smiled. There were no other bounty hunters on the case-yet, but Bossk had given him an idea. Whatever had happened to Boba Fett lately, anyway? He had to find out!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kelrin and Senaver stood in the entrance to the Van Dessel Tomb, the Freeflight. Soon after the massacre, the Twelve Ruling Houses had modified the ship to be a fitting memorial to the murdered family. After logging their names in the guestbook, their identity was checked before the museum's doors were opened to admit the visitors. There was a hologram of each dead Van Dessel standing where they had fallen, though the actual bodies were located elsewhere. A voice recording by each hologram explained all about the person.  
  
"I'll wait here," Senaver promised his friend as the doors opened.  
  
Kelrin didn't answer, his mind already occupied with what was within the room.  
  
Eerie blue holograms of his family floated above their transmitters like the ghosts they represented. It was a chilling sight, especially to the young padawan who now found himself in their midst. He did not hear the doors close behind him, allowing him isolation to grieve.  
  
Kelrin passed from cousin to aunt to brother, each sentence of their stories washing over him like a wave threatening to drag him under. He slowly made his way around the room, peering into the faces of each Van Dessel, looking for family resemblance. When he came to Shenaroh Van Dessel, his father, paused for a full half-hour, unable to speak for grief.  
  
Branober's trail of killing encircled the room, ending with Othenderto and Anmei: the last to die.  
  
Othenderto had been his grandfather on his mother's side, and had borne the responsibility of Patriarch very seriously. Kelrin knew how horrific it must have been for the kindly old man to watch his children and grandchildren die, but all the Van Dessels had known, since birth, that each one could be called on to give their life for the safety of the Nondiran Files. [i]Or in this case[/i], Kelrin thought bitterly, [i]all of them.[/i]  
  
Anmei had been Matriarch for only a short while, her mother having just passed the title and responsibility on to her two years before her death. Though the body of Kelrin's grandmother, Ulaia, had lain across the room from her daughter, Anmei and Ulaia had been very close. When Anmei's first child, a son named Kelrin, had been born, and born with Jedi powers, Ulaia had rejoiced along with her daughter, but they had kept it a secret until that fateful day when Kelrin had been jettisoned in an escape pod soon after the beginning of the attack. Kelrin had been found by a Jedi scout soon after his landing on Dantooine, and had been raised and trained by the Jedi order.  
  
But this did not matter to Kelrin as he stared into his mother's hologram face. He did not even listen to her story; he knew it already. Finally allowing his walls to crumble, he fell to his knees in front of her memorial. "Mom," he gasped, for the first time in his life, "you saved my life...thank you."  
  
Some time later, the padawan awoke before his mother's grave. His grief had dulled to a deep ache, but no longer brought tears to his eyes. He stood, chest out, chin held high. Kelrin Van Dessel would make his family proud of him. Slipping a hand beneath his padawan's uniform, he withdrew his ancestral amulet. "The only thing I can offer your spirit," the padawan murmured, arranging it at the hologram's feet. Then he stood, turned his back on the ghosts, and headed for the door.  
  
Just before he pressed the exit button, his eye caught on a notice board:  
  
Two Van Dessels are thought to have escaped the massacre, Kelrin and Danja, both offspring of Shenaroh and Matriarch Anmei. Kelrin is a Jedi Padawan, and Danja has not yet been heard of. She would now be nineteen, but hope for her life is fading.  
  
"No it's not, Danja. I'm still searching." Kelrin pressed the button and exited the tomb, finally at peace.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Boba rose early the next morning. Not wanting to wake Annbri, he headed for the restaurant to get some breakfast. A waiter droid accosted him as he entered the lushly-upholstered room. "Follow me, sir."  
  
The tables were situated in bubbles that hung below the restaurant, which jutted from the hotel like a balcony. Indeed, the top of the restaurant was a balcony-like landing pad for visitors. The bubbles hung at different distances from the restaurant, connected by a tube through which an anti-grav energy cylinder transported diners to and from their tables. For the guests that were afraid of heights, there were non- transparent bubbles within the restaurant, instead of below, the walls of which could be changed in an instant to set the mood.  
  
Boba's mood, however, was far from enjoyment. Yesterday, he had found that the soonest an audience could be booked was a standard week away. He had a full seven days to waste on Henber. [i]Or,[/i] he thought exasperatedly, [i]seven days to keep Annbri out of mischief and in the dark.[/i]  
  
The droid stiffly led Fett to a circular door, about four feet in diameter, in the floor, where he paused to ask "You're not afraid of heights, are you, Sir?"  
  
Boba tried not to laugh. "No."  
  
"That's very good, Sir." The droid pushed a button on it's left forearm. Immediately, the door retracted into the floor, and a disk, slightly smaller than the door, was floating there.  
  
Boba stepped onto it, and energy walls sprang up around him, protecting him from the walls of the tube as it plunged downward. Luckily, Boba Found, his feet were temporarily bonded to the disk, to prevent him from hitting the energy "ceiling."  
  
When the disk landed in his dining bubble, less than a second later, the energy walls retracted, and allowed him to step off the disk. As soon as his weight left it, the disk shot back up to its post above him.  
  
There were two seats, cushions suspended in midair, by a round, levitating table. Boba sat on one to study the menu, which popped up in the middle of the table, a two-sided holoscreen. After sifting through many exotic dishes with long names, he found something a little more normal: cinnamon rolls. Boba punched his order number in on the touchscreen, and in five minutes was staring at a platter of a dozen or so. With a shrug, he selected one and began to break his fast.  
  
The boring buisness of ordering over with, the bounty hunter allowed his mind to wander. [i]Dad wouldn't have called this a breakfast, [/i] he thought, [i]He would have told me to eat a yanshen fruit or something, with Bantha milk. [i] The twenty-two-year-old shuddered. He had always hated Bantha milk. [i]Dad always said that dislike would be a weakness,[i] Boba bowed his head momentarily, remembering Jango's tirade, [i]he said that all an adversary had to do was ask me to drink that stuff, to gain the upper hand. But now he's dead, and I cannot prove otherwise to him.[/i] It had been a joke, of course, but a weakness was a weakness.  
  
The cinnamon bun lay forgotten on his plate as he contemplated his father's demise. [i]Dad died before I could prove[/i] [b]anything[/b][/i] to him. He never saw me follow in his footsteps. He never saw my list of successful captures, which rival his! He left me, an orphan, alone, and even...a little...afraid.[/i] Boba Fett banged his fist on the table, rattling the dishes. [b][i]How dare he?[/b] I was only ten! We didn't even need to be on Geonosis anymore. We'd held up our part of the bargain as best we could, hadn't we? We didn't need to watch those executions, and we didn't need to be there when those Jedi showed up to knock his head off![/i] Boba remembered bitterly the first time he had seen a Jedi, one called Obi-Wan Kenobi, a nosy pest who wouldn't die, despite Jango's best efforts. 'Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi,' Jango had said. How ironic it was that that Jedi would lead to his doom, at the hands of another Jedi.  
  
[i]They claim they are peacekeepers. Ha. They brought no peace to my life. Dad and I were fine until they intervened. So what if this Naboo senator was on our hit list? It was Dad's [b]job[/b]. And then they discovered their clone army...[/i] Boba let the thought trail off, as he had thousands of times before when the memories returned to haunt him. No amount of feelingless killing could his heart from that sword. Boba Fett had tried his whole life to be worthy of Jango, to make "Dad" proud of him. And then Jango had deserted him on a remote planet, a child grieving over a Mandalorian helmet. The ten-year-old in him would not let the twenty-two- year-old forget the deadly swing of that purple blade. Someday, he would have his revenge.  
  
Boba suddenly realized he was gripping the edge of the cushion tightly, and he glanced down...and down...and down. Now he understood why he had been asked whether he was afraid of heights. He was dizzyingly suspended above a thriving city, through which traffic flowed like a shining silver river of speeders. The Henberans were going about their daily business, and it was time for Boba Fett to be about his.  
  
His appetite lost in memory, he pushed the plate away, downed his coffee, and reached for the disk summoner. He would go back up and see if Annbri had awoken. [i]Annbri.[/i] He remembered her suddenly, and glanced at the platter of cinnamon rolls. She would be hungry, and he wasn't relishing the thought of another trip to the restaurant this morning. He grabbed a few of the rolls and tucked them in a napkin, then proceeded up to the hotel room to check on the late riser. As he traveled, he wondered what he was going to do with her to keep her busy. [i]A week![/i] he groaned inwardly, [i]why so long?[i] But it could not be helped, he would just have to take her sight-seeing or something. Another groan. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	6. Space is Cold

When Boba entered the hotel room, he glanced towards Annbri's bed. It was empty and perfectly made. For a moment, Boba wondered if he had only imagined her; had Annbri not been there after all? Then he noticed a movement on the balcony, and found her standing there, gazing at the city below. He tightened his mind against a growing feeling of admiration, and stepped up behind her, holding out a cinnamon roll. "Breakfast."  
  
Annbri's hands, which had been pressed to the glass wall of the balcony, fell to her side suddenly, and she whirled around. "How long have you been there?" Her tone was accusing.  
  
Boba flinched inwardly. "About seven seconds. Take it!" he insisted, thrusting the roll towards her again.  
  
She took it, then collapsed onto the balcony couch to eat, ignoring him. When he did not leave, she twisted her head around to regard him over the back of the couch. "Something wrong?"  
  
"We have a week to wait before I can access what I need to in the palace."  
  
Annbri looked momentarily flustered, then shrugged. "Well, as long as it works...." She turned back to her food.  
  
This time Boba did leave. He went to his suitcase, which lay next to his couch, and began to search it for his pocket blaster, modified to slip through security scans.  
  
As soon as Boba had gone, Annbri peeked over the couch again. [i]Why was I so cold? she wondered, then mentally kicked herself, remembering her almost- wish the night before. And yet...she glanced at the cinnamon roll in her hand and smiled warmly. It wasn't a very Fett-like breakfast.  
  
She curled up more tightly and turned her eyes towards the palace. The whole of Shanwhir was waiting, for they had seven days to waste. Annbri unrolled another strip of her cinnamon roll, popped it in her mouth, and allowed excitement to slip down her spine. Seven days alone with Boba Fett! She mentally kicked herself again.  
  
~~~  
  
Boba sat down to arrange his pocket blaster in a secret compartment within his clothes: easily accessible, but hard to detect. He noticed movement from the balcony couch, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Annbri peek over, then, with an almost fierce look on her face, withdraw again. Boba smiled a little. She was scared of him.  
  
His blaster concealed, he stood silently and regarded the nineteen-year-old over the couch back. She was curled up in a ball, a contented expression on her face. No, Boba thought despairingly, she doesn't fear me. She trusts me. He clenched his hands at his sides, trying silently to tell her, Annbri! Don't trust me. I'm a killer, remember? A mercenary; a bounty hunter! I'm not doing this for you! I could kill you whenever I choose! I am cold, emotionless, unkind, and selfish! If you weren't good for a profit, I'd have let Stellar sell you to that hutt, where you would have become some sort of prostitute! Instead, I'm making you a queen! And yet--I didn't save you. I was only looking out for myself! Don't trust me; hate me!  
  
Fett turned away, his hands twin fists. This was not going the way he had planned.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Senaver jumped to his feet as the doors hissed open. He could tell at once that something about his friend had changed. Kelrin walked right past him, and into their transport ship. When Senaver followed, he found his fellow padawan lying on his cot in a trance. With a shrug, Senaver turned his attention to the controls, allowing Kelrin time to adjust to reality again.  
  
After an hour or so, Kelrin emerged and joined his friend in the cockpit. Senaver shot a questioning look at the younger padawan. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Kelrin smiled a little. "You were right, you know."  
  
"Oh?" Senaver couldn't help but grin.  
  
"I'm...I'm feeling better about...all of it now."  
  
Senaver's face became serious. "All of it?"  
  
"Well...no. There's still Danja...she's alive, Senaver!" Kelrin burst out when Senaver turned away with a snort.  
  
"Look, Kelrin, I believe you, but hasn't it gone far enough? Get used to it; you'll never know your sister, okay? Maybe you don't want to. Maybe she's become something...awful. She probably doesn't even know who she is! Give it a rest; you're the last person in your family, and you're a Jedi. The Jedi don't marry, okay? It's the end of the Van Dessel line. Get used to it."  
  
"The assassins did a real good job, didn't they?" Kelrin said quietly, his head bowed.  
  
"Yeah." Senaver suddenly felt ashamed for his outburst. His friend had just revisited all the pain and cruelty of his family's death. Kelrin did not need to be subjected to it again. Senaver tried to change the subject. "Well, we should be there soon. It's on autopilot, so let's get some sleep."  
  
"I'm all for that." Kelrin stood up and stretched, pulling his padawan's cloak more tightly around himself. "Space is cold," he remarked absently.  
  
Yeah, Senaver smiled grimly down at his sleeping friend a few minutes later, remembering the silent stillness of the tomb, the impassive whiteness, the pockmarked ship, not nearly a suitable enough memorial for Kelrin's family. Yeah, he nodded slightly. Space is cold.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"What are you doing?" Boba Fett's voice demanded over Annbri's shoulder.  
  
Annbri looked up from her datapad. "Writing in my journal."  
  
"What are you writing about?" Fett moved towards Annbri, trying to peer at the datapad.  
  
Annbri pulled her journal tighter to herself. "Just thoughts and stuff." Seeing Fett's reason for alarm, she assured him, "Don't worry, it's not anything that compromises our scheme."  
  
Fett contemplated her with expressionless eyes. "Fine. We're going to the Henberan library today, to do our research." He looked less than thrilled about their plans for the day. Annbri shrugged mentally; they were his plans, not hers.  
  
"Okay, just a second." She quickly finished up her entry, signed, and password locked the journal, then turned her back to Boba and hung the journal around her neck, slipping the datapad beneath the top of her tunic. When she turned back, Boba Fett had gone back to his couch, where he was rummaging around in his bag. Seeing her ready to leave, he straightened and motioned towards the door.  
  
Once they were outside the hotel, Annbri slipped her arm through his, in the typical Henberan way. As they walked past the hoverbus stop, Annbri shot a questioning look at Boba, but he shook his head.  
  
"It's not far. We can walk. The bus stop is hard to get off at, because there are so many people headed there."  
  
Annbri didn't ask how he knew this. There were some things that Boba Fett just knew, for absolutely no apparent reason. Very little about Boba, she was finding, was obvious. 


	7. Mugged in Shanwhir

Chapter 7  
  
"What do you mean you can't contact Boba Fett?"  
  
Kyjark's personal droid, B-10 explained again. "Sir, he simply will not answer the messages I send him. There is an automatic response on his ship that informed me he is currently on a job, and unavailable."  
  
"Oh, he'll be available all right when he hears what Branober'll pay for those files!" Kyjark stormed, casting a dark look at the droid before allowing himself to fall into his chair.  
  
"I have left messages referring to the large amount of credits he will recieve, but still he has not contacted me," babbled the droid.  
  
Kjark waved a hand dismissively. He would deal with Fett later. "Beeten?" Kyjark leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'd like to send a holo to Bossk. See that the proper equipment is attended. I want to make an impression."  
  
"Of course, Sir," B-10 agreed, rolling smoothly away on his three wheels.  
  
While the droid prepared an important-looking background for the holo, Kyjark raced to his private holoprojector. During the setup and holofilming process, any outgoing private holos would be masked by the much larger projector. He had only a few minutes, but that was all he needed.  
  
Quickly, Kyjark keyed in the location to which he wished to send his message. Then he pressed the recording button and began.  
  
"Eneera! I hope you and Ofen are all right. I'm fine; don't worry about me. I'm working for Branober again, but it'll be over soon, I promise. Thanks for the good work you're doing with the company. I'll be back, don't worry. Tell Ooler I love him, and that he'd better be working hard at school. Don't act like anything's changed. Pretend I'm sick or something. Whatever you do, don't get mixed up with the authorities; they'll only make it harder. I love you, and I think about you both all the time. Don't try to contact me here. Denburn Kyjark, out." He ended the message just before B-10 trundled back into the room.  
  
"Sir? The holoprojector is almost ready. If you would just come with me-- "  
  
"Just a moment, Beeten." Kyjark picked up his hat and affixed his uncomfortably heavy insignia onto his uniform. As the droid hurried him to the main holoprojector, he closed the clasps that held his cape at his shoulders. In all his military finery, he cut quite a commanding figure, and that was what he was counting on with Bossk. However lawless the Trandoshan bounty hunter was, he respected Kyjark's authority. Authority held the credits.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Annbri stood up and stretched, her muscles tense from hours of hunching over articles and datafiles. Though she had found a lot of information dealing with what they sought, the Nondiran files, everything seemed to say the same thing: The files were secret, valuable, and dangerous. Other than that, the sources were pretty vague. Annbri glanced over a Boba, or rather Ghenris, who, feeling her gaze, looked up from his datapad. "Any luck?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"I don't believe in luck; I believe in success. But no, I haven't had any of that either." Boba pressed the eject button on his datapad, and the file slid out. He glanced at a small stack of other files on the table next to him. "I'm getting tired of this." He scooped up the unsifted files, checked them out of the library, and headed for the door, Annbri close behind him.  
  
"Where are we going now?" Annbri wanted to know.  
  
"We're going to stop by my ship and pick up some more equipment. I'd leave you at the hotel, but I'm going to need you to carry some of it." Boba again slighted the hoverbus. Seeing Annbri's confused expression, he explained quietly, "It's harder to track us if we're on foot."  
  
Though Boba assured her that it wouldn't be a long walk, Annbri found it to be otherwise. The city of Shanwhir was like a miniature Coruscant, and the library had been built on one of the upper class top levels, as had their hotel. Slave I, on the other hand, was stored several levels down, in a storage shed belonging to an enterprising Twi'Lek who would keep his silence and ask no awkward questions. Annbri's head had always been fairly comfortable with heights, but she found the durasteel wire mesh sidewalks of the middle-class levels rather disconcerting, those thin wires the only barrier between her boots and the two-thousand-foot drop.  
  
As they descended another ramp, Boba suddenly tensed beside her. His hand slipped almost unnoticeably to his hidden blaster, and he didn't slow his step. Suddenly, he pushed her to the ground and whirled around, firing two blaster shots. A groan greeted the first shot, and a blaster rifle clattered to the ground from the skywalk above them. The second shot must have missed, because it was returned by one of their invisible attackers, and Boba had to drop and roll out of the way to avoid being hit. He stopped rolling and came up into a kneeling position, where he sent out three more shots in quick succession. Another groan heralded the volley, but this time the blaster did not fall to the lower level.  
  
There was a brief calm, during which Annbri rescued the blaster rifle and checked its power cell. All seemed to be in working order, so she held it at the ready, as she had seen Fett do, and waited for a target. She didn't have to wait long. Boba had stepped under the overhang of the higher skywalk now, making it harder for the attackers to shoot him. As a result, the attackers had descended the nearby short flight of stairs, and three aliens were running towards the bounty hunter and his charge. Annbri, with her vast experience with alien beings, decided the largest of the three was a wookiee. She was surprised to find one of these creatures, usually very honor-bound and decent, however fearsome in appearance, as a mugger in low- class Shanwhir. The other two attackers appeared to be some kind of frog- like creatures, possibly Greks. Annbri shrugged her eyebrows and brought the blaster rifle to her shoulder. Then Fett stepped in front of her sights. His blaster took out one of the frog creatures before the attackers were upon him. Annbri, a few meters back from Fett, and well out of the attackers' view, found herself armed but with nothing to shoot at. While Boba struggled with the enormous wookiee and his weak frog friend, she could not fire, for fear of hitting him. Her skill with a blaster had not yet been tested, and she did not trust herself to hit her mark.  
  
The wookiee dealt Boba a tremendous blow on the side of the head with his paw, causing the bounty hunter to stumble sideways, drop his blaster, then steady himself against the railing of the skywalk. As the wookiee charged him, he managed to duck and catch a handful of his attacker's fur. He pushed hard, continuing the wookiee's forward motion, right over the edge of the railing. The enormous sentient being flailed, but it was too late. As the redish-furred creature disappeared with a final roar, Boba shook his head vigorously to clear his mind. He could feel sticky blood trickling by his right ear, and he had a terrible headache. He had endured far worse, however, and wasn't about to let this slow him down. He turned, still crouched on the durasteel mesh, to face the remaining frog creature. It was looking rather shaken, but still triumphantly held a blaster aimed at Boba. Before it could fire, Fett shot his feet out, catching the creature in the stomach. The shot went wild, and the frog-thing doubled up. Boba continued the motion and rolled to his feet, covering the distance to the crouching Annbri and snatching the blaster rifle from her grip. He fired two rapid shots, but one was all that was needed. The last attacker slumped, its own blaster rifle skittering across the durasteel mesh towards them.  
  
Boba took a deep breath, leaning against the wall for support. "Don't suppose," he said irritatedly, "that Eiben Steller woulda tought you to use these things?" He indicated the blaster rifle in his hand with a jerk of his head.  
  
Suddenly feeling ashamed, Annbri shook her head. As though to make up for her uselessness, she retrieved the blaster rifle and Boba's own blaster turning back around to find him waiting for her.  
  
"Let's get going." He took the weapons from her and started down the skywalk again.  
  
Annbri jogged to catch up, glancing over her shoulder at the bodies of their attackers. "What about that?"  
  
"If it hadn't been them it would have been us." Boba turned his attention to the building numbers. They walked in silence for a few more time units, then he indicated a door. "In here."  
  
Upon entering the Twi'Lek's small office, Annbri stepped instinctively closer to Boba. The owner of the warehouse where Slave I was stored led them to a small elevator, ushered them inside, then punched in their destination.  
  
When the elevator doors opened up, the Twi'Lek remained in the elevator, allowing Boba and Annbri to board Slave I. Fett led the way, inwardly eager to get back in his most familiar territory. Annbri followed him cautiously, all too aware of how treacherous a bounty hunter could be. As they passed the cages, she hurried and stayed as far away as possible. She would not let him put her back inside one of them, she vowed.  
  
After they had passed the cages, Boba pressed Annbri roughly into the wall near the ladder. "Stay there," he commanded brusquely. Fett proceeded to stride across the small cargo bay where they stood and find some hidden button the wall opposite Annbri. A door appeared, through which Boba continued, then the door vanished again.  
  
After a few minutes, Annbri sat down the cold floor. Whatever Boba was doing, he was taking his time doing it. She pulled her knees up to her chest, regarding the cage that had been her prison. Never again, she promised herself, would she allow Boba to do that.  
  
~~~~~~~ 


	8. Lucky Shot

Boba Fett stood over the sleeping Annbri, watching the light from the double moons of Henber play across her face. In sleep, it was easy to remember how vulnerable and innocent she was. She had led such a sheltered life until then. The attempted mugging in the lower levels of Shanwhir had terrified her, and he remebered how she had stepped closer to him in the Twi'Lek's office. Though he hated to admit it, he hadn't minded. He had almost felt protective of this nineteen-year-old slave girl. She's just hard merchandise, Boba, he reminded himself. But he had to admit, she was the prettiest hard merchandise he had ever captured.  
  
They had been in Shanwhir for five days already, and the dawning of the sixth day was coming in a few short hours. Boba, for once, knew what he would do with her that day. They would go shooting. There was a nice wasteland several miles west of the city, and marksmen commonly went there to practice. They would have plenty of room to fire away. Lucky Annbri, he thought with a chuckle, to be taught marksmanship by the infamous Boba Fett.  
  
Annbri Fett. The words came to him as if out of nowhere. Some little voice in the back of his mind was intoning them over and over in a singsong way. Boba laughed quietly and turned away from the sleeping girl. "She's only nineteen," he said aloud. Then he paused, that could not be the only reason he had to keep his distance, emotionally. "Just hard merchandise," he insisted to himself, striding quickly towards the couch. "She's just hard merchandise."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Kelrin and Senaver stepped off their borrowed ship, carrying their small overnight bags and once again in good spirits. Senaver had not pulled out any more alcohol, and after Kelrin had awoken, they had dueled good- naturedly for the better part of the way home.  
  
Kelrin jerked his head in the direction of the ship they had left. "Slowest scrap of durasteel in the galaxy!" he laughed.  
  
"Tell me about it," Senaver grinned, reaching out with the Force to close the boarding ramp. "So are you okay about everything now?"  
  
They both knew what he meant. A shadow crossed Kelrin's face. "Yeah. I've made my peace with it all, you know? Yes," he added at a dubious glance from his friend, "all of it. Maybe I just don't want to know what happened to Danja. Anyway, I'm free from all that emotional baggage stuff now. I feel great!"  
  
"Glad to hear it," Senaver nodded, gesturing towards the dormitory door, which they were quickly approaching. "How about we deposit our stuff, eat, and then report to the council." He paused, knowing something unpleasant was in store for his friend. "They'll probably want to go through your thoughts, you know."  
  
Kelrin set his jaw and looked optimistically at his best friend. "Well, they won't find anything bad, so I'll be fine. It--it only hurts for a while."  
  
Senaver knew Kelrin was scared to death. The council's infamous mind searches were excruciatingly painful, but very effective. If they thought a student was too given to Dark Side attributes, such as anger, fear, and lust for power, they would go collectively into the padawan's mind and search for any Dark Side influences. Just last year a padawan had been stripped of his master and, as much as could be, the Force. He then was taken to the gardening planet, where expelled and unsuitable Force-users used their talents to grow vegetables. It was not a pleasant prospect for one who had high hopes to become a Jedi Knight.  
  
"Oh well," Kelrin smiled bravely, "Don't worry about the Sand People until they're after you, right?"  
  
"Right," the older padawan replied with an encouraging smile. Inwardly, however, he was afraid for his younger friend. The Jedi Council could be more ruthless than Tuskan Raiders, when it came to the Dark Side. He desperately hoped Kelrin had buried his anger with his family, and not in his heart.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Wake up, Annbri." Boba Fett put a gloved hand on one of her slim shoulders and shook her gently. He did very few gentle things in his life, but he had been getting used to it this past week.  
  
Annbri stirred, and her brilliant blue eyes blinked open, focusing on the bounty hunter's head. "Boba? What time is it?"  
  
"The morning," Boba assured her, not exactly sure how the Henberans' time units worked. "There are some leftover cinnamon rolls on the table over there."  
  
She sat up, her light brown hair mussed from sleep and her eyes squinting against the light. "It can't be that late in the morning...."  
  
"How long will it take you to get ready?"  
  
"How long? Well I--" Annbri stopped at an exasperated look from Boba. "A Coruscant hour?"  
  
"Three-quarters of an hour, and then we're leaving, understood?" Boba waited until she nodded sleepily, then he strode back to his couch to retrieved the two appropriated blaster rifles from the day before. He would teach her to use a blaster rifle, his personal weapon of choice, and, if she learned quickly, the hand-held blaster as well. He understood from the files on Annbri's mother, Matriarch Anmei, that the queen had been quite a good shot. Hopefully it runs in the family, he thought grimly.  
  
Annbri was ready in half the time she had expected she would need, and the two Phendols set off towards the hoverbus landing platform. This time, Fett had assured her, where they were going was indeed too far away to walk.  
  
When they reached the city limits, Boba rented a speeder. They headed out across the wasteland, known as the Pelhamasan Plains, looking for a good empty stretch where they would neither shoot other marksmen nor be shot themselves.  
  
When Boba was sure they were isolated enough, he stopped the speeder and jumped out. Annbri seemed to be having some trouble with her door, so he shrugged and crossed to the other side to help her out.  
  
Annbri looked up as Boba approached, then pulled hard on the door release mechanism again. It would not budge. "Stand up," Boba commanded, and when she did so, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her out.  
  
Annbri cried out momentarily, then was standing on firm ground again. She turned and leaned against the speeder to steady herself, and to hide the blush that was rising to her face. "Thank you," she said belatedly, as Boba pulled out a blaster rifle from the back of the speeder. Suddenly, alarm bells started going off in her head. Why were they out in the wilderness with guns? Was he going to shoot her and leave her here? Terrible visions of her body, baked to white bones by the relentless sun, traipsed through her head, and she caught her breath as she met Boba's eye. "What's going on?" She backed up into the speeder, fumbling again with the door clasp.  
  
Boba smiled briefly at her obvious fear. "Don't worry," he assured her, "I'm not gonna shoot you. We're just going to have a little blaster rifle handling lesson, okay?"  
  
Still wary, Annbri watched as he raised the rifle to his shoulder, sighted at a rock, then fired.  
  
"Now you try," Boba prompted, handing her the rifle.  
  
Annbri bit her lip, disappointed that he had noticed her deficiency with firearms. Of course he would have known she had never owned a blaster. Slaves were not permitted to carry weapons, and she had been a very young slave. She held the rifle as she thought she had seen him do, squinted down the complicated sighting mechanism, and fired a half-hearted shot that went thirteen yards or so wide of its target. She heard Boba lauging behind her, and she turned to see him fire a shot with the other rifle, reducing the rock she had been aiming at to dusty shards. Annbri frowned at him, then looked back at the destroyed rock. How did he do that?  
  
Boba had heard that women looked prettier when they were angry. Whoever had told him that had been right. However, this angry woman wasn't going to stand around looking pretty all day. He laid the blaster rifle he held on the back of the speeder and went back to help her. Taking the rifle from her, he held it in the correct position. "See?" he asked, sighting on another rock.  
  
After he had reduced that rock to dust too, she took back the rifle and made her own attempt, but not matter how hard she tried, the muzzle kept drooping towards the red dust at her feet.  
  
"No, no," Boba shook his head impatiently, "like this." He stood behind her and covered her own arms and hands with his own, guiding them to the correct placement on the rifle. Her small brown head pressed against his chest, and he hoped she couldn't hear his heartbeat speed up suddenly. For a moment, Boba let his mind wander to the vulnerable woman, hardly more than a girl that he now held in his arms. Her hands were shaking under his, and he was acutely aware of how close their bodies were. If she had simply looked up at him then, Boba later realised, he would have given up his disinterested charade and kissed her, but she did not, and he reined in his daydream before it had even begun. Under his gloved finger, her own depressed the trigger, and a piece of dead wood shattered with the impact of the plasma bolt.  
  
Annbri was slowly relaxing into his protective embrace. She wasn't as uncomfortable as she had expected she would be, and his arms around her were a pleasant surprise. Everything in her life had changed so quickly in the past week, and she felt secure pressed against his broad chest. She hoped she wasn't shaking too badly, and wondered if she should pull away, now that the shot had been fired. But she didn't want to. Instead, she took a deep breath, then let it out, willing her hands to stop trembling. She didn't want Boba to know she was afraid of him. She didn't want Boba to know he made her heart beat three times faster than it normally did.  
  
"Now let's try to aim," Boba said quietly, bending down to rest his head on her shoulder so he could sight along with her. He felt her flinch a little as his head grazed hers, and felt both triumphant and terrible at the same time. I'm scaring her, he thought.  
  
Annbri felt his breath on her cheek, and had a hard time concentrating on the sighting instruments. She allowed Boba to guide her hands and aim the rifle at an old dead tree. As the rifle came into position, the muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed, holding it firmly in place. Annbri was acutely aware of this, and remembered what one of her older friends on board the Marauder's Revenge had once said about a man. She had described him as being "intoxicating," and Annbri was sure she knew what her friend had meant by that. Trying her best to keep her attention directed at the tree, she sighted, then fired. She felt Boba relax as the knot in the middle of the dead tree's trunk exploded with little ceremony.  
  
Boba let his arms fall from hers, stepping away from Annbri. Shouldn't have done that, Fett, he warned himself, watching her raise the rifle again, take aim, and fire, this time nearly hitting his target. He stepped back up behind her, and supported the rifle once more, this time allowing her to pull the trigger when she deemed necessary. Her shot was right on the mark.  
  
For the rest of the morning, Annbri practiced her shooting. Once Boba had shown her, she proved to be a quick learner, and was soon firing with increasingly deadly accuracy. Likewise, the hand-held blaster became a weapon to be reckoned with in her hands, and though she could not hit her mark every time, her firing had improved greatly from what it had been the day before.  
  
As lunchtime came and went, Boba regretted not putting the remaining stale cinnamon rolls in the speeder. After Annbri had completed another few shots, he suggested, "How about we go back to Shanwhir and pick up something to eat? I suppose you haven't really eaten anything proper in your life. No," he added, seeing her raise her eyebrows, "cinnamon rolls don't count."  
  
Annbri agreed, for the plasma in her blaster was getting low, and this time she was ready when Fett swung her up into the hovering speeder. The trip back to the city took much less time, it seemed, than the trip out, and Annbri welcomed the cool breeze on her face. Boba returned the speeder and they collected their blasters and departed.  
  
After a quick stop at the hotel to drop off the firearms and wash the desert dirt off themselves, they took a taxi to an upscale restaurant called the Fountain's Canopy. Despite the somewhat dreamy name, Annbri was delighted with the place. It was well-lit, with windows making up all four of its walls, and the slave girl could not take her eyes off the enormous fountain that rose up from the middle of the room, sending an unending curtain of water down the sides of the dome underneath which the diners sat. The waiters came from hidden doors somewhere behind the giant ferns that surrounded the pillar of water in the middle of the room, bearing trays upon trays of the galaxy's finest food.  
  
Boba helped Annbri choose something that she might like, promising to let her try some of his savajan, an Alderaanian food that he was extremely partial to. After the waiter left with their orders, Boba looked out the window at the bulbous palace. In the midday sun, the principal building of Shanwhir looked like a handful of opalescent marbles tumbled in an artful heap. "We're going there tomorrow, Annbri," he said quietly, "to find your family."  
  
Annbri had not realised how close they were to that long-anticipated day. As she regarded Boba, she found something strange in his eyes. Was that regret? Surely he was not sad at the prospect of selling her to her family...was he? Did he know something about her family that she did not? Were they terrible people, who would treat her worse than Stellar had? Surely he wouldn't turn her over to people like that! Annbri remembered the moment that morning when she had felt safe in his arms. Had he been leading her to belive that he was trustworthy, only to sell her for whatever he could get? 


	9. The Audience

Boba rose early, his internal clock still confused by the time changes he would become very accustomed to later in his life. He checked his chrono, then shrugged and went out on the balcony. The rosy petals of dawn had just begun to unfurl, and the first moon, Emia, had already sunk beneath the horizon. It was going to be a very nice day, Boba observed, if all went well.  
  
That is, if he could get Annbri into the palace without arousing suspicion because of his identity; if he could get an early audience; if he could convince the Royal Council that Annbri was who he knew she was; and if they would pay him the reward that was sure to exist for a person like herself.  
  
Too many if's.  
  
Well, he might as well wake Annbri. She would need a lot of time to prepare herself today.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"So Boba Fett is on a very important job?" Kyjark frowned at B-10 and drummed his fingers on his desk.  
  
"Only for another day or two, Sir," the droid added.  
  
"I see. And after that he will be entirely available?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Then tell him that I wish to speak to him personally as soon as this job of his is finished." Kyjrak dismissed the droid and turned back to his battle plans. Nothing was going correctly, and Branober was getting edgy. None of the mercenary scouts had returned with any information, and a complete search of the Freeflight had not turned up anything. Kyjark winced at the thought of the desecrated tomb. The only thing of any value found there had been a medallion of some sort. Branober believed that it had belonged to one of the Van Dessels, and he was having a Trathen, the official language of Henber, specialist come in to examine the runes on the amulet.  
  
Kyjark remembered the ugly blaster holes in the shiny white durasteel. The walls had been searched and re-searched. Every crevice had been delved, every cushion torn up, every button pressed, and still no files had surfaced.  
  
Kyjark read the old report of the massacre on the Freeflight once more, and noticed for the first time something he himself had said. "...an escape pod fired during takeover. Pod R788JQ..."  
  
"Beeten!" Kyjark called sharply, "I have another holo to send!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Annbri sat quietly in the waiting room while Boba talked in urgent but hushed tones to the palace clerk driod. Boba tried not to lose his temper completely, as he showed the droid his appointment slip and identification one last time. "Please, our case is kinda urgent..."  
  
The clerk looked at Boba sharply over his visual enhancement lenses, Sir, everyone's case is urgent. You will wait your turn."  
  
"And that is...?"  
  
"Printed on the plast I gave you."  
  
"But my chrono isn't set to Henberan time."  
  
"There's a large chronometer over there you can use. Good day, Sir."  
  
Boba slammed his fist down on the counter and turned back to Annbri. "It'll be a little while anyway, I think." He consulted the plast and the chronometer the clerk had indicated. "Yeah, we might as well go somewhere else to wait. If we leave the palace, we'll have to go back through security, and that takes forever, but there's supposed to be some nice gardens around here somewhere where visitors walk."  
  
"Sounds good." Annbri stood up and accepted his arm. They were getting good at this charade. Pity it would be over so soon, Boba thought.  
  
The gardens were found after a short time, and they proved to be everything Boba had heard. A maze of lush greenery, unique to Henber, wound round and round in miles of paths, dead ends, and cute little durasteel benches. As Boba and Annbri walked, they saw foreign diplomats in long sweeping robes of crimson and purple, the occasional fleeting glances of royal children, for which this section of the garden was forbidden, and many people like themselves, who sought the wisdom of the Royal Council of Twelve Houses.  
  
And as they walked, the talked. Idly, at first, of the weather, the plants, whether they should go this way or that, and other ordinary things. But something was nagging at Boba's mind. Annbri spoke as if she would still be going back to that hotel tonight. She had no idea that if Boba was successful, these would be their last hours together. And suddenly, that was becoming much more important.  
  
"Annbri?" Boba cut her off mid-sentence, and the tone of his voice made her stop walking and turn to face him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not here," Boba said quickly, glancing both ways along the large path they were sharing with several other beings. "In there." He led her into a smaller path in the hedge, which curled around like a snail's shell, ending with a small circular area just big enough to occupy a small bench, which it did. "Sit down," Boba directed Annbri, though he remained standing. He paced for a few more moments before speaking again. "There's something I need to tell you..." He stopped, faced her, and shook his head slowly. How was he to tell her that he had known all along? He sat down on the bench and searched her face. "I've...what I mean is...well, you see..." This wasn't working.  
  
Annbri put her small hand on top of his own. "It's okay. Just tell me."  
  
Boba nodded and met her even gaze, taking her hand in his. "I...." He never finished that sentence. Maybe it was their surroundings, maybe it was the fact that today she looked incredibly stunning, but Boba suddenly forgot everything; forgot the files, forgot the mission, forgot the fact that he was leaving her here on Henber today. He pulled her to him and kissed her.  
  
Annbri was a little surprised at first, but certainly had no objections. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss, allowing all her fear, doubt, and frustration to melt away as she thought of only one thing. Boba Fett.  
  
Suddenly, Fett released her and pulled away. He stood up quickly and turned in a slow circle, running his hand through his short curly hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Sorry." Then he walked briskly back down the path.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Fett's hands were clenched at his sides in twin fists. His strides long and purposeful, he was attempting to put as much distance as possible between Annbri and himself. It was no use. No matter how far he ranged, he could not get her out of his head. Finally, he found another bench and sat down. Good job, Fett, he told himself, what a smart thing to do. Kiss the long-lost princess of Henber just before you give her back to her family. You two can never be together. Get over it. You're leaving today, and she's staying here. You're a bounty hunter, by Mondore, not some kind of prince or something! Get a grip on yourself, Fett. Think of what Dad would say.  
  
Boba winced at the thought of Jango, who had worked closely with Zam, but had dispached her without pause as soon as she threatened to reveal information. Oh yes, Jango had tried to hide that fact from his ten-year- old son, who had been very fond of Zam, but Boba had found out, and he had never truly forgiven his father, his idol, for killing her.  
  
And then Jango had died. Boba remembered all too well cradling his father's empty helmet. Unable to bear retrieving the severed head, he had simply crouched, holding the helmet that he now wore. That helmet was the face the galaxy had known and feared as Jango Fett; and was already beginning to respect as Boba's visage. But Jango had been a fool. He had gotten too involved; taken sides. Boba would stay detached. He was no one's bodyguard; no one's fool. Jango had liked to make big explosions. An excellent marksman, he was nearly always successful, but there were some, like that cruel Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had been able to elude him because of Jango's dramatic tactics. Boba didn't take chances. "If it's still movin', keep shootin'," he said quietly, remembering what Zam had taught him long ago.  
  
Zam had been the closest to a mother Boba could ever have hoped for. She would always bring some of her own mother's cinnamon rolls to Kamino when she came to work with Jango, and they had remained his favorite food, no matter how much Jango tried to convince him to eat his yanshen fruit. Zam had doted on Boba, while Jango had been fond, but stern. Jango had regulated Boba's diet strictly; Zam had smuggled in treats. Jango had pushed Boba to the edge of his endurance--and a little further--and Zam had picked him up when he was done. Jango had taught Boba how to be a galaxy- wide feared bounty hunter, but Zam had taught him about the code of honor that even his father had respected and held to. As a result, Boba never killed unecessarily and didn't always lend his services strictly to the highest bidder. There was something in his mind that had snapped when he lost both parent figures within a few days of each other. He had vowed never to cause that kind of pain to another child without adequate reason.  
  
The chrono on the side of the massive wall that towered at the edge of the gardens began tolling the hour, and Boba remembered suddenly that he and Annbri had an audience to be at. He checked the plast against the chrono, and decided that they had only a few time units. Hastily, he sprang up and headed back the way he had come. He found Annbri quickly; she had not left the bench where he had left her, and without speaking a word, he gestured for her to come with him. She would not meet his gaze, but followed right behind him. She did not try to take his arm, nor did he offer it.  
  
Soon they found themselves back in the waiting room at the palace. Boba went up to the clerk droid and found that they were next to go in. They did not speak as they waited, and when the droid called for Ghrenris and Annbri Phendol, Boba followed the clerk into the audience chamber, Annbri trailing behind.  
  
As soon as they entered the Grand Audience Chamber, Annbri felt as though she had shrunk to the size of a Tatooine dust particle. The room, plated completely in gold-colored durasteel, reflected her scared face back at her from the floor, the walls, and the domed ceiling. She clasped her hands nervously in front of herself as she tried to keep from stepping closer to Boba for reassurance. The twenty four councilors, two from each of the twelve houses, sat in a half-circle at a raised gold durasteel table. Each councilor wore the colors of their house, and sat in order of the imporance of their house. The Martriarchs of each house sat on one side, and the Patriarchs on the other, with the highest house of Henber, house Van Denover, sitting in the middle of the semi-circle. There were two empty chairs opposite each other. In front of both of them read a plaque that said "Van Dessel." Annbri wondered briefly where the two Van Dessel councilors were, but soon found her thoughts otherwise occupied.  
  
Annbri, Boba, and the clerk droid were standing in the middle the semicircle, the grave faces of the twenty-two royals regarding them silently.  
  
"Case 98820CG82," the droid intoned, "Boba Fett, for security reasons known as Ghenris Phendol, claims that this girl is Danja Van Dessel." The droid turned and rolled away as the councilors consulted their datapads. And as Annbri gaped openly at Boba. She wanted to say something; to confront him about this...lie? But she could not talk to him now. She could only answer truthfully anything they might ask her.  
  
Done looking over the case, the councilors directed their attention to the two people. The Van Denover Patriarch spoke first. "You," he pointed his stylus at Boba, "Are confirmed to be Boba Fett. Any relation to Jango Fett?"  
  
Boba didn't change expressions. "I am his clone. He acted as my father."  
  
"Your occupation?"  
  
"Bounty hunter."  
  
"Well, like father like clone, eh?" The old man chuckled at his own joke, and Annbri noticed the other, most of them younger, councilors shift restlessly in their seats. Clearly, they wanted to get this over with.  
  
The Van Denover Matriarch broke in. "Mr. Fett, you state in your report that though you are aware that we are hearing no more cases regarding Danja Van Dessel, you have proof that you have found her, and simply had to have an audience. We have agreed to listen to you, but don't waste our time. Where is this proof?"  
  
Boba stepped forward, an old commlink transmitter in his hand. He held it up for the councilors to see, then began to play the message recorded nineteen years before by Anmei Van Dessel. When it ended, with Anmei's last breath, there was silence for a few moments, then the Van Denover Matriarch spoke again. "And what was this girl's name?"  
  
"Annbri." Boba stepped back, allowing Annbri to be better seen.  
  
"She looks just like Anmei," the elderly Van Emytt Patriarch said quietly, and several of the older councilors nodded sadly.  
  
"How old are you, girl?" one of the councilors wanted to know.  
  
"About ninteen," Annbri managed. "They didn't know exactly when I was born."  
  
"Who's they?"  
  
Annbri glanced at Boba. How much was she supposed to tell? Fett, seeing her uncertainty, stepped back in. "She was a slave on Dekenbri for nineteen years. Her master was Jeniru the Hutt. I found her there and rescued her."  
  
Annbri, deciding to play along, nodded. After all, if Boba hadn't come along, Jeniru would have been her master.  
  
The councilors regarded their datapads for another few moments, then the Van Enkeme Patriarch rose. "Where did you find that recording?"  
  
"It was among her personal effects on Dekenbri."  
  
"I see," the patriarch nodded slowly. "I move we call for a DNA verification."  
  
"I second the motion," said the Van Denover Matriarch, and the other councilors nodded their agreement.  
  
Annbri looked wildly about herself as guards surrounded her, separating her from Boba, and taking her arms to escort her away. As she met Boba's eyes, she saw the pain-and the triumph-in his face. How could he? He had known all along that she was indeed the lost heir of the Van Dessel House. And he had not told her. She had found her family. She had lost him. 


	10. Searching Slave I

Boba hated waiting. He glanced around the small room he had been ushered to after the audience. Unlike the previous waiting room, it was completely devoid of furniture and decoration. The bare, white walls seemed ominously skeletal, while the two white-clad guards that stood by the door were as statues. Strangely, the room, even without furniture, seemed cramped with three people inside. Boba lounged comfortably against the wall farthest from the door and regarded the guards with an amused air. "Do you think you have to make sure I don't run away?" he taunted calmly. Though the guards didn't reply, one of them shot an annoyed look Boba's direction. Fett took a step forward. "All I want is to get paid; then I'll leave. I'm in no hurry. You can relax or something...at ease?" One of the guards took his hand off his blaster and turned to Boba Fett. "We're supposed to be guarding you while your ship is searched. Wouldn't want you to interfere, eh?" Searching his ship! Boba was seething, but he kept his voice the same low taunting lilt, "Interfere? Never! They can search to their hearts' content." The other guard relaxed a bit. "So you don't mind people pawing through your stuff?" Boba smiled disarmingly, "'Pawing through' my stuff, you say? I'm sure Henberan guards can do better searches than that, am I right?" He thought he saw their chests swell a little. Boba took a gamble and turned his back to them, pretending to check his chrono. He slipped a hand up his sleeve and activated his civilian gauntlets, which he could easily hide under most clothes. He slipped a tiny remote control device into his left hand, then wandered around a little as if he were bored. The guards had relaxed completely now, one even having laid down his heavy blaster rifle. They were talking quietly among themselves when Boba aimed coolly at the taller, more alert one, from behind, and sent a saberdart tipped with tranquilizer into the guard's neck. The guard slumped almost instantly, leaving his pudgy companion gaping at the advancing bounty hunter. "Don't make this difficult..." Fett warned, but the guard had already reached for his blaster rifle. Being closer to the wall against which the rifle was leaning, he stepped into the man's path and caught the guard in the side of the head with his right gauntlet. The fabric did not soften the blow, and this guard too fell to the ground. Boba dusted off his hands, wrenched open the door, and began stalking down the hallway toward what he assumed would be the hangar. A servant ducked out a door into the hallway, and Fett accosted him. "Which way to the hangar?" The servant did not seem at all disturbed by this question. "You're almost there; just another few doors...let's see...number 87'll get you to the turbolift, and then type in code 24B and that'll be the hangar. But I'd be careful if I were you. They're searching some ship in there; and it'll probably get messy. Always does, you see." Boba tried to look only mildly interested. "They search ships in the main hangar then?" "Well, you see, only the twelve families have their own hangars; everything else goes in the big one. There's really no where else, you see?" "Yes, thank you." Boba let the servant get on with his work. So they're searching Slave I in the main hangar, eh? Fett thought, more people to perform for.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The guards herded Annbri out a different door than she had entered, and she found herself in a laboratory. Several men and women in white robes were bent over various assortments of tubes and petri dishes. A row of medical droids lined the far wall, and as they entered, one rolled forward. The guards escorted Annbri to a hovering table on which she was instructed to sit. When she had done so, the medical droid assigned to her approached and began his examination. Annbri was baffled by the many different tubes and srynges that he produced, and was rather glad when a sharp prick in her hand was shortly proceeded by unconsciousness.  
  
When she awoke, she found herself in a different room, sprawled on a hovering couch, it seemed. As she took stock of her surroundings, she found that she could make out voices nearby. A woman's voice was giving out orders, it seemed, to dozens of listeners. As she struggled to sit up, her head pounded, and she quickly returned to lying on her back. Suddenly, someone who had been standing behind her scurried around the couch and into the hallway. A maid, Annbri decided, upon hearing a respectful murmur, quickly followed by the first woman's commanding alto.  
  
The maid, for indeed that is what she was, returned almost immediatly, following a tall woman, made even taller by the headress she wore. "Aha!" the woman said in a loud but friendly tone, "the princess awakes!" She turned breifly to the maid, "Thank you, Kimri, now you may go see to her rooms with the others." The maid nodded once, then removed herself from their company..  
  
Annbri couldn't help but stare at this strange woman. Adorned in a long green dress with many layers and shades, she seemed to the younger woman to be a stiff sort of plant which had sprouted a vibrant orange flower. The flower, of course, was her headdress, or perhaps it should be called her hairdress, for the orange color was indeed from the woman's hair, expertly intwined in a small golden basket affixed atop her head. Not only was this woman's dress unusual, but the way she carried herself, as if one could use her for a ruler or straightedge, was positively foreign to the once-slave who now beheld her.  
  
The woman left no time for gawking, however, and proceeded to volley sentences at Annbri in such a way that the new princess was seriously contemplating playing her part and fainting. "Now, Princess Danja...yes Danja it is now, that is your true name, you know. That is what your mother called you, and that is who you are said to be in our records, and now here you are. How charming! Anyhow, I know it seems rather sudden, and don't worry, Mr. Fett has explained your situation to us in its entirety, and I realy must express my deepest regrets that you had to deal with a fellow like him, but you are our princess, Danja Van Dessel of the fifth house, delightful, yes? Now we have a lot of work to do, making you into a royal princess in looks and action as well as name. I understand you have some prificiency in the use of firearms and martial arts? Well, though we value independence and military training very highly, there is much much more to being royal than that. We will have to work on it, and it will take work, I assure you.  
  
"I am Baroness Anahalt, and I am the caretaker of the Van Dessel wing of the house. To be sure, we haven't had this much excitement to attend to in quite some time, not since that dreadful massacre, and I'm just delighted to be assigned to making you comfortable. Now, to assist you on your way to true royalty, I have selected a handmaiden for you. She's quite an enchanting young thing, and I think you two will get along quite well." Finally, the baroness stopped speaking long enough to acknowledge the silent figure that had appeared in the doorway. "Aia, your handmaiden," she said as the figure came forward.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness," Aia greeted Annbri with a deep curtsey. Annbri found herself already liking the girl, who seemed about her age. Aia's clothing consisted of a dark green velvet robe with a white silk sash around the waist and a white silk collar embroidered with what Annbri would later understand to be the Van Dessel family crest. The handmaiden's fair hair was gently pulled back from her face so as not to interfere with her duties, but it still framed her face enough to show off her light-skinned face's natural beauty. Annbri met her eyes as the handmaiden curtseyed, and she saw them sparkle with mirth. Yes, they would get along just fine, Annbri predicted.  
  
"Well, Aia," the baroness checked her chrono and announced, "I really have much to do, and if you would show the princess around the gardens perhaps, I would be much obliged." Without waiting for an answer, she swept out of the room, already calling orders to an unfortunate passing servant.  
  
During the baronesses speech, Annbri had moved into a sitting postion, and now, feeling much better than before, she rose. "I suppose you know who I am," she said awkwardly, feeling as if she should introduce herself.  
  
Aia grinned and rattled off, "Princess Danja Van Dessel, Queen-elect, Matriarch-elect, Councilor-elect of the fifth house of Henber."  
  
"Right...um, could you just call me Annbri?"  
  
"As you wish, Annbri." Aia dipped her head in respect.  
  
The former slave shook her head quickly. "And none of that stuff either...that bowing...."  
  
The handmaiden laughed aloud. "Certainly, I never liked doing it anyway. Always seemed a little superficial. But don't tell Baroness," added Aia in a conspiratorial voice, "she thrives on the superficial." 


	11. Searching Slave I cont'd

Boba strode into the hangar with leisurely pace of a man on an afternoon stroll, but he far from composed. Despite his calm exterior, his every sense was alert, seeking out his ship. When at last he wandered past a site of particular activity, where an unusual ship was being examined by a group of royal guards, he paused to ask a closeby hyperdrive mechanic about the search.  
  
"Oh that," the mechanic said in a dimissive voice, "Just some guy's flying pile of scrap metal. They seem to think he's got something important stashed there, but I don't think anyone'd risk putting something important in something so close to death."  
  
"Yeah," Boba replied, "haven't they got anything better to do?"  
  
"You'd think they would," the mechanic agreed. He looked over his shoulder quickly, then said in a lower voice. "I'm not really supposed to tell anyone this yet, but Henber's got a fifth royal house again. I mean, surely there's something they can do for the new princess, yes?"  
  
"Of course," said Boba quietly, letting the certainty of the mechanic's declaration sink in. Until that moment, he had not realised that he hadn't really wanted the DNA test to come back positive. So Annbri's a princess, he mused, you knew this would happen all along, Fett. She's not yours anymore.  
  
Suddenly, a shout rang up from the ship, bringing Boba out of his thoughts in an instant. "It's not here either, Sir!"  
  
Boba sauntered over to the side of the ship, where two men were examining the markings on the hull. "What does it seem to mean?" he asked.  
  
"Well," began one man, "I think these scratches here are just that-- scratches--, but Jules here thinks that they're trophy markings. I don't know...what do you think?"  
  
"Well," Boba leaned in as if to peer at the parallel markings, pretended to stumble, and bumped his right gauntlet against the speaker's shoulder. The dart that was ready to be fired pierced the man's skin, and he convulsed once, then crumpled in a lifeless heap. Dismayed, Boba nudged the man with the edge of his toe. Huttspawn! he cursed to himself, that was supposed to be tranquilizer. "Oh well," he said aloud, pulling a small knife out of its hidden sheath and sratching another line on the ship. As he turned to leave, he patted Jules', shoulder. "Congratulations, Friend, you were right."  
  
Boba's next stop was by the entrance ramp. Three guards were positioned in a tight circle, conversing in urgent tones. Fett rolled up his sleeves, exposing the civilian gauntlets. They were slimmed down versions of his armored gauntlets, with a few larger components missing, but would serve his purpose quite nicely. Three darts expertly fired, and the guards lay unconcious on the ground.  
  
Boba proceeded up the ramp and into his ship. He found two more guards searching the cells, three in the cockpit, and three more in the cargo hold, but all fell to various sleep-inducing weapons. Boba dragged their unconcious forms down the entrance ramp and laid them out on the floor, then he searched his ship for more of the invaders. Satisfied that no guards had breached his hidden panel, Boba stepped outside to await the authorities that were sure to be summoned.  
  
He did not have long to wait. Before long, a man dressed like the other guards, only with a green cloak and red sash and a worried-looking older man in flowing black robes approached him, both in a great hurry.  
  
The younger man spoke first. "Boba Fett, I am Captain Miles Neuvar, Royal Captain of the Guard of Henber, and these," he gestured to the unconcious forms strewn about the floor, "are my men. Can you give us any good explanation why you suddenly found it nescessary to render them thus?"  
  
"I'm surprised," Boba commented calmly from his seat on the boarding ramp, "that you allow them to sleep on the job like this."  
  
Before the captain of the guard could retort, his black-robed companion jumped in. "I'm Chancellor Fenaten. Now Mr. Fett, it seems that you don't like our system of government very much."  
  
"The system of government? Oh, I couldn't care either way about that, but when your guards get on my ship without my permission, I think I should at least be present."  
  
"And you are," the captain pointed out.  
  
"No thanks to your men, Captain," Boba countered.  
  
"We feared that you'd put up a fight," the chancellor sighed, fishing around in his pocket for something, "that's why we had them guard you. You see, we wanted to see if you had anything relating to the Princess Danja on board, but it seems--"  
  
"I haven't. All her personal belongings I brought here an hour ago from the hotel." Boba interrupted.  
  
"Well, yes, that's all very well...I suppose you're eager to get on your way, then?" The older man glanced around nervously at the bodies on the floor. "Shall we transfer those credits, then?"  
  
"Please do."  
  
Fenaten produced a datapad from his pocket and pressed a series of keys. After a few moments, he looked back up at Boba. "There; it is done. As soon as you have checked your ship out of our system, you may go."  
  
"Thank you." Boba nodded to the fuming captain of the guard and his nervous companion, then stood and rolled his sleeves down again. Servants came out to collect the sleeping guards as he re-entered his ship and headed for his quarters, behind the hidden panel. He would put on his Mandalorian Armor and go back to being the Boba Fett he had been two weeks ago, before all this had happened.  
  
((((((((((())))))))))  
  
"So what was it like, being the captive of Boba Fett?" Aia asked Annbri, her pale blue eyes shining with interest.  
  
"Oh, it was no big deal," Annbri grinned, "It didn't really come up much, my being his slave, I mean. I think he actually referred to us as partners once or twice."  
  
"Partners! Ooh! What were you looking for?"  
  
Annbri hesitated, unsure of what she should reveal. "My family."  
  
"Well, it certainly was successful, wasn't it?"  
  
"Yeah...it was."  
  
"What's he like, this Boba Fett?"  
  
"Um...," Annbri struggled to find the words. "He's kind of quiet, but not at all soft-spoken. He's used to being on his own, and his father left him with some major grudges against everything, so he's not exactly a people person. He's got a really nice side to him, though, that people don't get to see, really. He can be...almost sweet at times. He taught me how to shoot a blaster rifle, you see, and took me to lunch and stuff...." Annbri was frustrated to find that her sentences were getting more and more fragmented as she tried to keep from blushing.  
  
Aia was no fool. "You like him."  
  
"I...." Annbri was spared from answering when the maid scurried through the room where the princess and handmaiden were speaking.  
  
"Trouble!" the maid exclaimed, "Mr. Fett has the entire hangar in an uproar! He was shooting things at the guards as they searched his ship! Right nasty temper he has, if you ask me!"  
  
Excusing herself briefly, Aia followed the maid back out of the room, returning a short time later with the full story. As the handmaiden explained, Annbri shook her head, an amused smile playing across her features. "They searched Slave I? Poor them!"  
  
Aia laughed softly and checked the chrono on the wall. "He hasn't left yet, you know. You can still say goodbye."  
  
Annbri suddenly stopped smiling. Her gaze focused on her hands, and she remembered the feeling of his arms around her, guiding her aim, only two days ago. And then there was today in the garden, she remembered. She stood. "Aia, which way is it to the hangar?" 


	12. Farewell Revised

Boba Fett had just finished his inspection of Slave I and had gone within to prep his navicomputer when he heard a voice outside in the hangar. He paused, his fingers resting lightly on the keypad, before deciding to open the door. The ship gave him eight seconds to reach the door, and when he did, the bounty hunter found his boarding ramp stretched out before him, and Annbri standing at the bottom of it.  
  
The girl's hands were clasped together in front of her, and Boba saw uncertainty in her blue eyes. "I wanted to say goodbye," she began, looking vulnerable and afraid as he viewed her from his slightly elevated position. "I didn't feel like we really had yet."  
  
Boba knew she was referring to the kiss in the garden. She was right; that hadn't been a kiss goodbye. Boba had half-hoped that she would come; it would have been unthinkable for him to seek her out. I suppose, he thought, it's unthinkable for her to be here now. But she is.  
  
Boba Fett had never been truly good at voicing his emotions. No, that's not true, he'd once been very eager to voice his excitement during hunts with his father. That had been before the Jedi, though, before Geonosis. Now, as he looked down at the small brown-haired girl in front of him, he felt as though he should say something, but he knew nothing he said could change reality. They both knew well that they could not be together.  
  
At the bottom of the ramp, Annbri tried hard to imagine Boba's expression behind the helmet he wore. The famous helmet that so many recognized seemed foreign to Annbri, who knew the man within it so well. She took a step forward and glanced behind Boba into the ship. "Mind if I come in?"  
  
Boba hadn't expected that request, but he couldn't find any excuse. Part of him wanted to show off the ship, now fully cleaned and serviced, that Annbri had only been on before as a prisoner. Why she would want to return, Boba didn't know, but she was a woman, and that was enough to explain away a lot of strange tendencies.  
  
Annbri followed Fett into the ship, recognizing the smooth durasteel bulkheads that she had found so impersonal before. They seemed like old friends in comparison to the strange palace she now found herself resident of.  
  
They approached the cells, and Annbri broke file with Boba to step into the one that had been hers. Her hand lingered on the door, wishing she could close and lock it and stay with Boba forever. It was a silly thought, she knew. She let it stay ajar. After turning in a slow circle, Annbri sat down on the bunk, her back to Boba, and began to speak. "I guess you knew all along, didn't you?"  
  
Boba found it irritating that she could not see him nod, forcing him to speak. He was glad his helmet was in place, digitally altering his voice. He wasn't sure he'd trust his own voice if this went on too long. "Yes."  
  
"And you kept on lying to me."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why? Didn't you trust me? We were partners."  
  
"I never trust anyone."  
  
Boba saw Annbri's shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath. "You kept your word, anyhow. You found my family."  
  
"I always keep my word."  
  
"I wish you hadn't."  
  
Boba paused, unsure of how to answer. He had gotten his credits for the job, and there was really no reason why he shouldn't have handed Annbri over to her family. "They paid me well enough," Boba reasoned, then after a moment, "are they treating you badly?"  
  
Annbri turned around and regarded him through the bars. She was stifling a laugh. "They're impossible. All rich, snotty, arrogant, and brainless. A few of them can fire decent blasters, and the servants aren't all bad, but that's about it."  
  
How much she had changed, Boba marveled, in just two weeks she had been forced into a world of chaos so different from her ordered life as a slave. And how much she had had to grow up, away from the shelter of Stellar's ship. As Annbri turned her back to him again, he spoke. "Face me when you talk."  
  
"Why?" she asked the wall opposite her, "when you won't face me?"  
  
Boba sighed, said something in Huttese that made Annbri glance sharply in his direction, and pulled off the helmet. He set it down before entering the cell, once again appearing as the Boba Fett she knew.  
  
Annbri grinned as he entered, his eyebrows raised. "Much better," she nodded.  
  
He sat down on the end of the bunk and asked, "So what do they have planned for you here?"  
  
"I'm afraid to ask," Annbri smiled. She met his eyes, then looked quickly away. Not like you care anyway, she thought. "What are you going to do when you leave?"  
  
Boba evaded the question. "I've got a job or two lined up. I always do."  
  
"Of course." Annbri looked away again. Why was it so hard to talk to him? "You'll still be looking for the Nondiran Files, I suppose."  
  
"Yes," Fett said slowly.  
  
"You don't need to anymore, do you? I mean, DNA proved easily enough who I was."  
  
The files had been another lie. Boba had known that they would not be needed to prove her identity. He had also known they were widely sought, and had wondered if she had known anything about them. She had not. "I was preparing for the worst case scenario. Better to have too much information than too little."  
  
"You should have told me."  
  
You have no idea what I'm not telling you, Boba thought, but he said, "That would not have been profitable."  
  
Annbri stiffened, remembering the first time he had said that to her. After all this time, she still had been nothing but hard merchandise. He had used her. "Well, I guess I should go, then," Annbri said briskly, standing.  
  
"Annbri, wait." It took a few time units for Boba to realize he had said that out loud. Annbri turned, fixing her eyes on him, waiting. Now he had to say something. Just say it, Fett, he chided himself; and since one can't triumph over one's self, he said, "You never said goodbye," and stood to catch her arm before she could escape. He pulled her to him, finding little resistance, and held her to his chest.  
  
Annbri pressed her cheek to the cool, smooth Mandalorian armor, feeling the edges of the plates dig gently into her skin. Her hands crept up to his shoulders, where they rested, feeling the muscles in his arms tensing as he held her. Boba rested his chin on the top over her head, knowing that this had not been a mistake, or had it? Suddenly, he pushed her away, holding her at arm's length and studying her face. "Goodbye, Annbri."  
  
The girl stood like a rag doll, her head hanging low and her hair hiding her face. One of Annbri's hands dangled at her side, while her left hand was resting on his gauntlet. Her shoulders shook beneath Boba's hands, but she made no sound. When she did raise her face to speak, there was no sign of tears, no anger, no hope, only a profound sorrow. She traced the Mandalorian symbol on his chest armor with her finger and said, "Goodbye, Boba Fett." She slipped out of his grasp and was gone.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Having retrieved his helmet and secured the door of the cell, Fett headed back the navicomputer, which by now sufficiently warmed up. He automatically shuffled through several charts on his vidscreen, but his mind wasn't on the work at hand. It was still on Annbri.  
  
Danja, he reminded himself. Princess Danja. Queen Danja, soon. Annbri had died the moment he had sent his report to the Royal Council. He had killed her himself.  
  
Before long, Boba had received the necessary takeoff information, and, after one more quick inspection, Slave I was hurtling away from Henber with all speed. Even as it did so, Boba was preparing a message for Commander Kyjark. These first few days wouldn't be easy, he knew, but he had enough work lined up for himself, there would be plenty to keep his mind busy. He hoped.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Aia found Princess Danja out in the gardens. The distressed handmaiden had been searching for her mistress for several hours. It had been mid-morning when Danja had gone in search of the bounty hunter, and it was now late afternoon. Though, when Princess Danja was not found in the hangar and the bounty hunter's ship was reported gone, Aia's initial reaction was of kidnapping, the control tower operator had assured her that there had been only one life form on the ship. A thorough search of the palace, and then the gardens, had finally resulted in the location of the princess. Danja was found sitting on a bench in a far corner of the gardens, her eyes shining with tears.  
  
Danja's arms, in the Henberan custom, were bare, but night was quickly descending, and Aia rushed forth to wrap her mistress in a shawl. She helped Danja to her feet and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, but didn't say anything. What could she say? Everything was obviously not all right, for what had seemed to exist between the princess and the bounty hunter could never be. It was tragic, Aia admitted, but it had happened before on a regular basis, and Danja seemed to have realized that she had to deal with the truth. Only after Danja had gone to bed did Aia hear the bitter sobs that she had expected. The handmaiden bowed her head. Was formality worth the sacrifice?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kyjark was asleep when Beeten scooted into the room, reveille sirens sounding. The commander's glare was wasted on the droid, who began chattering. "Sir, a holo has arrived from Mr. Boba Fett, the bounty hunter you have been trying to contact. You told me and event like this was of utmost urgency, and I am happy to oblige. If you will come this way, I will take to the message."  
  
"Beeten," Kyjark growled, "is it this urgent?"  
  
"You told me yourself it was. Now please, Commander, sir, do hurry."  
  
Kyjark rolled his eyes and dragged himself out of his bunk. Grabbing a cloak to protect him from the cold air of the space station, he followed the droid into the holo room, where the torso and helmet of the famous bounty hunter was rotating in all its ghostly glory on the holoprojector. Kyjark remembered speaking to Boba Fett before, and disliked how uncomfortable hearing a voice but seeing no lips move made him. "Like a droid," he observed, glancing annoyedly at Beeten, "but hopefully more competent."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Three Jedi sat, regarding each other over a table. In the middle of this table, a datapad bearing the news of Princess Danja's existence had been laid. Master Yoda spoke first, nodding sagely at the youngest of the group, the Twi'Lek Jedi knight Sarn Tajay. "Sarn, a bad time to bring this it was."  
  
"Very true, Master Yoda," Senaver's master Jey-Lu Ressendo admitted. "But how could we conceal this from the boy?"  
  
"A boy still he is. A padawan. Unable to take the trials yet, he waits. He waits because he is not with the Force. Peace, he needs. Your padawan, Master Jey-Lu, helped him gain peace but a short while ago, hmmm?" The other Jedi Master confirmed the question. "Then why should this peace be torn?" Yoda finished.  
  
Sarn, who had remained silent, as the messenger of the news, knew he must speak. "The Henberans never did think that the Jedi were a worthwhile cause. They hide their Force-sensitive from us. If the massacre had never happened, it is possible that Kelrin would never have come to us. He was two at the time of his finding; already irrevocably attached to a family."  
  
"This is true," Yoda agreed, "and when his master, Ghany Y'Sevet, died, he lost another."  
  
Master Ressendo took a deep breath. "So the boy was tainted. He's not at peace and never will be. He is not strong enough in the Force to take the trials, and if he is not ready by now, there is little hope. My padawan is only a year older, and he is to take the trials now. Most padawans go to the trials before their twentieth year. Kelrin is twenty-one, and still immature in the Force. He will be a danger; he must be cut loose. We have taught him the ways of the Force, but he cannot apply himself correctly. It was a mistake ever to take him on. Only because Y'Sevet insisted was he kept, against the will of the Council I understand. What can we do with a boy who is not mentally trained to handle what he can physically do? What dangers lurk for the galaxy if he is simply sent home? The Force is not a trifle, as we all know well."  
  
"Are you suggesting we kill Kelrin?" Tajay asked, speaking the boy's name for the first time in that conversation.  
  
"Forgive my blindness, but I see no other alternative." Ressendo lowered his head a little. He did not dislike Kelrin.  
  
"Aren't there other places for the untrained Force-sensitive?" Tajay looked from one master to the other, stunned at the bluntness of a "necessary murder."  
  
"But trained, he is." Yoda said quietly.  
  
Sarn stood quickly, requiring to reach out to the reassuring Force to calm himself. "I want no part of this."  
  
Yoda bowed his head. "None of us do, Tajay. Our parts are chosen by the Force."  
  
"Then Force preserve me, I will not kill a padawan." Sarn spun away from the table and clutched desperately at calm. No one could know what had been spoken of at that table.  
  
After Tajay had left, Ressendo said quietly, "You know we must, Yoda."  
  
The old Jedi Master nodded. "Talk to the council, we will. Perhaps an alternative they will see."  
  
Ressendo glanced at the chronometer. "I'd better go over some exercises with Senaver. Do speak to the Council." He left quickly, trying not to think about what he had suggested.  
  
And Yoda was left alone with the burden and the truth.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
